Fingerprints of a life
by Lanthiriel25
Summary: Dean meets Ben several years after he had Cas wipe the Braedens' memories. He and Sam take a case at Princeton University, New Jersey, and whilst there they meet an engineering student who seems somewhat familiar. A Dean and Ben story, also featuring lots of Sam and cameos from Lisa. (Rated for some swearing and a description of victims of a cursed object.)
1. Chapter 1

Summary: Dean meets Ben several years after he had Cas wipe the Braedens' memories. He and Sam take a case at Princeton University, New Jersey, and whilst there they meet an engineering student who seems somewhat familiar. A Dean and Ben story, also featuring lots of Sam and cameos from Lisa. (Rated for some swearing and a description of victims of a cursed object.)

Warnings: Some swearing (although nothing which isn't common in the show). Description of victims of a cursed object. Also I know nothing about engineering/mechanics so apologies for any glaring inaccuracies!

Disclaimer: Writing belongs to me. AC/DC and their songs belong to themselves and their music label. Star Wars belongs to George Lucas and the production company. Everything else belongs to Warner Brothers/CW/Kripke and co. For entertainment purposes only.

AN: I really liked Lisa and Ben, and whilst Dean's place is 'driving down Crazy Street' with Sam I do think he was a great father to Ben during his time with them. I was interested to see how the pair of them meeting again, with Ben obviously not knowing who Dean was, would affect Dean and his thoughts towards himself and that year of his life.

AN2: The story is completely finished, with ten chapters and an epilogue. I will update every day/every other day, real life permitting.

Hope you enjoy. Reviews are very much appreciated. :)

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**Fingerprints of a life**

_By Lanthiriel25_

Chapter 1

Maybe today was the day, he mused, as he dropped himself into his chair at the kitchen table, picking up his fork, plate of scrambled eggs in front of him. Maybe today was the day he'd finally got it right and the eggs would taste like they should. One mouthful soon told him that no, his latest variation on the scrambled egg recipe was still not right. He'd tried adding more salt today; it was better but something was still off about them, like there was a secret ingredient or special combination that someone had forgotten to tell him about. Setting down his fork with a sigh, he frowned. Why did every plateful of scrambled eggs he tried always taste like there was something missing? He couldn't explain it. Nathan, his roommate, said it was just because he was missing his mom's home-cooking, being his first year away from home and all, but he knew that wasn't it; his mom's scrambled eggs never tasted right either. It had gotten to the point where he just assumed it was just one of the world's great mysteries – the Bermuda triangle, the construction of the pyramids, his scrambled eggs; there was simply no other explanation.

Glaring at his plate, as if he held the eggs personally responsible for the fact that they tasted wrong, he picked up his fork again, resigned to eating them to appease his growling stomach despite them falling woefully short of his inexplicably picky standards. Dragging his still-open text book across the table Ben flipped through the pages until he found the chapter on refining combustion engines and began to read.

"Ben, dude! No studying before eight o'clock, them's the rules!"

Ben was startled from his reading by Nathan stumbling bleary-eyed into the room, dressed only in his boxers and an open robe, brown hair sticking up and sleep-mussed.

"Bite me!" Ben retorted through a mouthful of breakfast, turning to glare at his roommate, not expecting to be confronted with the sight of a semi-naked Nathan, yawning and scratching his bare stomach. "Argh! That is so not something I needed to see first thing in the morning!" he groused.

"What are you talking about? I'm a fine specimen of a human being!" Nathan argued, burying his head in the kitchen cupboard, searching for some bread that wasn't green and growing things.

"Yeah, yeah, whatever you say," Ben muttered, turning back to his book, grateful that Nathan's quest for breakfast was keeping him quiet, for now at least. Nathan was great; Ben had been worried about meeting his roommate, scared that they wouldn't get along, but they'd hit it off right away. Sure, he could be loud and annoying, with a terrible taste in music, but he was a genuinely nice guy once you got past his quirks, and hey, scrambled egg preferences notwithstanding, Ben knew he had a few quirks of his own. Speaking of which…Nathan was looking for bread, and Nathan never ate bread unless it had been toasted within an inch of his life…Ben braced himself, waiting for the inevitable outburst.

"BEN! Dude, seriously, what the…?! We've talked about this!"

Ben cringed, before schooling his expression into 'innocent with a slight hint of bemusement' which he'd perfected over the past few months. Mask of feigned ignorance firmly in place he turned to face his now scowling roommate.

"What?"

"'What' nothing you douchewad! Don't you play innocent with me! It's like my Xbox all over again! You promised!" Nathan shouted, looking slightly alarming as he whirled in anger around the small kitchen space, pacing up and down, gesturing wildly in his frustration. "It's practically the middle of the night and I have to get up to listen to Professor Brokovitz drone on and on about his new relic for the university or some such crap, and all I ask is that I can get some butter-smothered toast to cheer me up and give me some fuel to burn, but no, my mad-scientist of a roommate decides to use the toaster for his crazy schemes of world-domination, and I've had enough! I hate you Ben Braeden , I really really do!"

Ben stared blankly at the kitchen door as it shook in its frame after the epic slam Nathan had just subjected it to in his dramatic exit. He smiled to himself at Nathan's tirade, used to his tendencies towards the melodramatic; he felt bad about upsetting his roommate but he knew he would come round eventually, especially when Ben put the toaster back together so it was better than new. He'd meant to have it reassembled, new and improved, before Nathan woke up, but his scrambled egg quandary had completely pushed it from his mind.

Last night Ben had become tired of reading about linear and differential equations and their practical application in experimental engineering, fingers twitching with the desire to do some experimenting of his own. He knew he had to study, understand the theory, but what he enjoyed the most was throwing himself right into it and using his hands, exploring and playing with the technology, figuring things out for himself. He loved tinkering away with anything from cars to games consoles, and everything in between, wanting to know how they worked, altering them and improving them. He'd driven his mom to distraction at times because of it and now it seemed he was doing the same to Nathan. He'd already had to apologise for pulling apart Nathan's Xbox; he was only trying to make it run faster but Nathan hadn't taken too kindly to not being able to play his classic version of Plants v. Zombies for two days whilst Ben put it back together. Ben wasn't sure what the problem was; it wasn't like it was a realistic, or even halfway logical game anyway, plants definitely couldn't kill zombies. Anyway, since Nathan was out partying with his football friends last night, Ben had cranked up the volume on his stereo, his old favourite, AC/DC, blaring from the speakers, and set to work on experimenting with the toaster, singing along to 'Thunderstruck' as he did so.

Glancing at his watch, Ben sighed as realised he wouldn't have time to fix the toaster before his first seminar, he was cutting it quite close as it was; instead he rushed next door with a couple of slices of bread to Annie and Stacey's apartment suite. Banging on the door, he hoped he'd remembered rightly and that they had to be up for lectures too, otherwise he was going to be in for a world of pain. Luckily, Annie opened the door, chestnut-hair scraped up into an untidy bun, loose curls haphazardly framing her face, fully dressed and in the middle of cleaning her teeth.

"Can I use your toaster?" Ben asked, holding up the bread. "Ours is…broken."

Annie raised an eyebrow at Ben, showing she knew exactly what Ben meant by 'broken'. Ben grinned sheepishly, "Please?"

Having a mouthful of toothpaste, Annie simply nodded moving back from the doorway to let Ben in, who hurried to the kitchen and slammed the bread in the toaster. Without asking he began rifling through their fridge for the butter; no point presenting toast to Nathan that wasn't completely saturated in fat, he didn't have a death wish, thank you very much! Annie shook her head in disgust and disappeared into the bathroom. Ben could hear her rinse and spit.

"Thanks Annie!" he called out, as he pulled the nearly blackened toast from the machine, drowning it in butter. "You're a life saver!"

He dashed across the room, toast in hand, nearly crashing into his friend as she emerged from the bathroom, before racing back down the hall to his and Nathan's place.

"You owe me one Braeden!" Annie called good-naturedly down the corridor, snorting in mock-derision at Ben's answering wave, before he disappeared inside his rooms.

Dumping the toast on a chipped plate, Ben rapped on Nathan's closed bedroom door before leaving the peace offering on the floor for him to collect when he deigned to come out.

"Breakfast is served!" he announced loudly, before racing around the living room, collecting up his books and tools, stuffing them into his bag.

He smiled as he heard Nathan's door open and his declaration of "Maybe I'll only seriously maim you instead of killing you."

"Thanks man, I'm honoured!" Ben laughed as he scraped his half-eaten eggs into the bin, no great loss there, and dumped his plate in the kitchen sink. He felt a twinge of guilt at not washing up; his mom would lecture him good and proper for that, but what she didn't know wouldn't hurt her he mused.

He jumped as 'For those about to rock' echoed from his pocket. Pulling out his phone his eyes widened when he saw 'Mom' flashing on the display. He glanced incredulously at the dirty plate taunting him from the sink; how did she know?! Shaking his head at the absurdity of the whole thing, he slung his bag over his shoulder and left his apartment, pressing the answer button on his cell as he locked the door behind him and set off down the seven flights of stairs.

"Hi Mom."

"Hey sweetie, how are you?"

"Fine thanks. Running late...again. You're up early."

"Wanted to go for a jog. Make the most of the weather while it lasts. How's Princeton?"

"Nice, bit cold but you know, it's all good." Ben reached the bottom of the stairwell and pulled open the door, striding across the campus green towards the Technology and Engineering block. "Not that I'm not happy to hear from you, but to what do I owe this pleasure? I'm on my way to my first seminar, so I can't talk long."

"Just wanted to check when you're home for the holidays. Sasha's wanting to book up a spa weekend away and I didn't want to say I'd go if that's the weekend you're getting back."

Ben smiled at his mom wanting to be there when he got home; he couldn't imagine Nathan's mom missing a weekend away with her friends because of him. Even as grown-up as he was it still made his heart swell when his mom did something like that for him. He waved silently at Matthew, one of his course-mates, as he let himself into the Technology and Engineering building, and began to take the stairs down to the basement, hoping the reception would hold, before thinking about Lisa's question.

"Um, I'm not sure. I have to check on a couple of project deadline's first. I'll see if I can find out today and give you a ring tonight to let you know?"

"Thanks Ben, that'd be great. I'll talk to you later, and I'm expecting a good long catch-up about your college misadventures young man. Are you eating ok?"

Ben rolled his eyes with a fond smile, well-aware that Lisa couldn't see him. "Yes Mom, I'm eating fine. I'll give you the full run-down tonight I promise; I've got to get to my seminar. Enjoy your run. Love you, talk to you later."

"Love you too. Bye Ben."

Snapping his phone shut, he quickly slid it into his pocket before pushing open the door to the underground workshop area. It was an amazing space, Ben's favourite on campus; it was definitely not one of the most high-tech, ironic considering its purpose, but to Ben it felt much more authentic, like an Aladdin's cave of invention and experimentation, rather than the soulless, pristine boxes that some of the other workspaces felt like. It was full of half assembled vehicles and electrical equipment, blue prints decorating the walls from floor to ceiling, often over-lapping with no discernible order, every piece of machinery or toolkits imaginable lining the workbenches and workstations around the room. Ben had spent many hours sequestered down here, busying away at one or other of his projects during their many independent study sessions. He did miss his mom from time to time, being away from home for the first time, especially with it just being the two of them for his whole life, but he loved it here. Lisa had encouraged him to apply for all the technology and engineering courses he wanted; when he was accepted here Lisa and his high school friends had thrown him party and his mom had tearfully told him how proud she was of him. Ben smiled, that was a good memory, but despite missing his mom he never regretted his decision to come; he belonged in workshops such as these, he just knew it.

He often wondered where he got his interest and skills from; it certainly wasn't Lisa who was a self-confessed technophobe who could barely change a light bulb on her own, so Ben was curious as to where his talent came from. He hadn't always been so interested in mechanics and engineering; it wasn't until his very early teenage years he remembered the obsession creeping up on him and really taking hold. He'd thought himself round in circles, wracking his brain to think of someone who had explained what different parts of an engine did, who had shown him how to rewire or recalibrate things, who had encouraged him and nurtured his interest, but he came up with nothing. He was sure there was someone though; the feeling of care and support he felt when he thought about it came second only to the love he felt surround him when he thought about his mom. It was a mystery, another one to add to the list. What he did know though was that designing and making things, it was what he was meant to do.

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Chapter 2 of 11 coming soon! Reviews appreciated :)


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

Dean cranked up the radio, 'Thunderstruck' playing obnoxiously loud in the relatively small confines of the Impala. Sam scowled at his brother as he refolded the map, trying to follow the route they were taking whilst also being able to see where they were going. He shifted again as he tried to stop the map from blocking too much of the windshield so Dean could see the road too; a small voice in the back of head asked him why he even bothered when Dean took a swipe at the map, pushing it out of his way, nearly ripping it in the process.

"Dean!" he complained.

"What?" came his brother's voice, dripping in innocence.

"You know what!"

"I don't know what! What?" Dean flashed a devil-may-care grin in his direction, his eyes dancing, thoroughly enjoying winding his brother up, causing Sam to frown. Wasn't it the little brother's prerogative to do the winding up?

Sam gritted his teeth at his brother's teasing; sometimes it was like Dean was six years old. A part of him rejoiced however that Dean could still be so carefree and goddamn annoying when he felt like it after everything that had happened in recent years. Sometimes it was only that thought that stopped Sam from throwing Dean's entire collection of cassettes out the window to stop Dean from playing them as if they were listening to them from about a thousand miles away; well, that and the fact that Dean would have him hung, drawn and quartered if he knew Sam was even contemplating such a heinous crime. So, self-preservation winning out on this occasion, Sam refocused his attention back on the map, knee jiggling in his concentration.

"We've got about another 500 miles til we cross the state-line, then I'd say we've only got another 20 minutes or so from there."

Dean sighed in pleasure, sinking more deeply into the leather seat. He smoothed his hand along the steering wheel in an almost-caress, smirking once again in Sam's direction. "Excellent. Plenty of time on the road with my baby."

Sam made a fake retching noise, causing Dean to slug him in the arm hard enough to bruise.

Dean laughed at Sam's indignant glare as he rubbed his arm, watching as Sam fought to keep his face a mask of displeasure. It didn't last long though, one of Sam's sunny-smiles breaking out in the face of Dean's good mood.

"You wanna run why we're going to New Jersey by me again?" Dean asked, turning his attention back to the road, casually readjusting his lax grip on the wheel.

"Not really," Sam shrugged, folding up the map and choosing instead to gaze passively out of the passenger window, mentally counting down to Dean's retort.

"Ok, let me rephrase that. Tell me what's going on in Princeton, bitch."

Sam's mouth twitched at Dean's use of the nickname from their younger years.

"Well since you asked _so_ nicely…"

Dean rolled his eyes and gestured for Sam to continue, or else.

"You know how we've been keeping a look-out for those cursed objects from the list we created a year or so back after collating Dad's, Bobby's and Rufus' intel?"

Dean nodded with a look that clearly said 'yes, I do remember thank you very much, now would you kindly get to the point?'

"Well, the Sahara Diamond? It's jumped back up on the radar."

"What? The necklace that sucks people dry until they're basically just giant prunes?" Dean interjected, glancing at Sam from the corner of his eye as he carefully navigated the hairpin turn in the road, causing Sam to grimace at the image Dean's colourful description brought to mind.

"That's the one."

"Didn't Bobby pick up a case to do with that sucker when we were tearing the country apart looking for Dad?"

"Yeah, it vanished though, before he could destroy it. He flagged it up but it hasn't resurfaced until now."

Sam shifted in his seat, reaching into his pocket to pull out the print-out of the report he'd found on the recent acquisition and re-housing of the diamond from a university press release. Unfolding the paper, Sam glanced over the photograph of the necklace which held the diamond, sitting pride of place in a fancy display cabinet; it was a stunning piece with an interesting history, a prestigious acquisition for any establishment, nasty deaths notwithstanding.

Many centuries ago the necklace had been forged using a diamond created over millennia previous from the sands of the Sahara, and gifted to the princess of the Sahara tribe by a wealthy suitor; over the coming months they courted and she fell deeply in love with the man. She soon discovered however he was also pursuing her attendant in secret and she was watching as he crept into her royal quarters one night to steal back the necklace to present to his new love; furious at the betrayal the princess exiled the pair, leaving them stranded in the desert with no food or water in punishment for their crimes, before turning her dagger upon herself in her despair. Just before plunging the blade into her stomach she called upon the ancient gods to curse all those who sought to take the diamond from her, condemning them to a death such as the one suffered by the first who dared to steal from her.

When her tomb was unearthed the necklace was taken as an historic artefact, being passed from collection to collection, from private owner to museum curator, down through the years, leaving a trail of horrific deaths in its wake. It would appear that the legends were correct and the diamond could indeed unleash the power of the Sahara upon its unsuspecting owner; there had been cases over the past decades of people dying of dehydration with a bottle of water clutched in their hands, skin blackened and charred, shrivelled and shrunken bodies having been drained of every last drop, sand pouring from their mouths. Bobby had shown Sam photographs of the body he had investigated down in Milwaukee in connection with the diamond and he hadn't been able to eat for the rest of the day. He'd seen some pretty gruesome things during his hunting life but that image still made him gag at the thought of it.

It hadn't been heard of for years, no strange deaths which could be attributed to it, but now it seemed a professor in charge of his university's collection had purchased it, less than a week ago, from goodness knows where. They didn't know how long the curse took to come into effect so Sam and Dean were making all haste to Princeton University to hopefully save one Professor Brokowitz and to put an end to the diamond's evil once and for all.

"So what's our angle? Dress up in the monkey suits and persuade Brokowitz to sell the bling to us and then we destroy it, or..."

"No," replied Sam slowly, chewing on his lip as he considered the options. "I'm thinking after the amount he paid for it, he's not going to be wanting to sell it in a hurry, not even for a profit. And anyway, no matter how good you claim your hustling skills are, even you wouldn't be able to scare up $3,000,000."

Dean whistled in awe, "Who'd pay that for some dead chick's jewellery?"

"It seems he really wants it as part of the university collection; apparently the auction was brutal."

Dean scoffed, snatching the picture from Sam, holding it up over the wheel so he could look at it whilst he drove. "Ugly piece of crap if you ask me. If some guy had given me this to persuade me to go out with him I'd have had him exiled and put a curse on the damn thing too!"

Sam turned to his brother, a disbelieving grin on his face, eyebrows arched high in amusement. Swallowing down his laughter, he waited until Dean realised what he'd said. Dean looked at him in confusion at the sudden scrutiny and Sam smiled as he watched the cogs turning in Dean's brain, replaying the conversation his head; the moment of realisation was clear to see in the horrified expression on his face. Snapping his mouth shut, with an audible click, Dean coughed, turning back to the road, grumbling, "You know what I mean."

Sam couldn't hold it in any longer, letting loose a chuckle which only increased in volume at Dean's indignant scowl.

"Yeah, yeah. Laugh it up!" Dean grouched, screwing up Sam's precious report and slinging it at him, hitting him in the forehead before bouncing down the side of the seat.

Sam's only response was to laugh even louder, enjoying his brother's embarrassment.

"Shut up, Sam!" Dean said loudly, trying to get the conversation back on track. "So if we're not gonna fake-buy it from him, what are we going to do, steal it?"

Taking deep breaths Sam tried to calm himself down and focus on what Dean was saying.

"Well, yeah, actually."

"What? Saint Sammy is condoning, nay, _advocating _the theft of a historical artefact from an institution of learning?!" Dean teased in his best disapproving 'professor' impression.

"Well, considering the said artefact is killing people then yes, yes I am!"

"Great!" Dean exclaimed, snapping back to his normal voice. "I love a good robbery. We haven't done a good old-fashioned burglary in way too long." The excitement on Dean's face was so obvious, Sam just knew that if he wasn't driving his older brother would probably be rubbing his hands together in glee right now.

"A day doesn't go by _without_ us stealing Mr. ..." Sam snagged Dean's wallet from his jacket pocket, pulling out his current credit card, brandishing it at Dean to emphasise his point, "...Scott."

Without taking his eyes off the road, Dean snatched the card back, pocketing it, "That doesn't count. I'm talking black clothes, security systems, sneaking down corridors..."

"You're a geek," Sam interrupted matter-of-factly, ignoring Dean's offended glare. "Anyway, as I was saying, I think we can get the information we need about where it's kept, any security precautions they've got on it, things like that, from the professor's student assistant..."

"Good call," Dean agreed. "Keep Brokowitz in the dark about the whole thing, until we're far away and the diamond is dust. I _don't_ wanna to be running from the cops again; I've had enough of that for ten lifetimes."

"You and me both," Sam agreed as he fished blindly down the side of the seat to find the report. Scooping it out from where it had wedged itself, he uncrumpled it and smoothed it out as best he could. Turning it the right way up, he scanned the account for the name he was looking for.

"Nathan...Nathan Jenkins seems to be our guy. I'll see if I can pull up his contact details when we stop for food."

"Was that a not-so-subtle hint to tell me that you're hungry?"

"No."

"Well, too bad. Because I am. Wanna stop at the next diner?"

"So long as it's not covered in quite as many layers of grease as the last one," Sam complained.

"I'll see what I can do princess," Dean smirked, revving the engine to get them there faster, content to enjoy the company of his brother and the soft purr of his baby in the meantime.

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Chapter 3 of 11 coming soon! Reviews appreciated :)


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

Sam banged on the door of Apartment 225, Student Block C one more time as Dean glanced up and down the corridor.

"You sure this is Nathan's place?" Dean asked, snatching the scrap of paper Sam held in his hand on which he'd scribbled down the address and squinted at the writing. "Dude, seriously, your handwriting is getting worse...!"

"You guys looking for Nathan?"

Sam and Dean spun around towards the source of the voice to see a pretty girl in jeans and a trendy t-shirt letting herself out of the apartment next along, locking the door behind her. Brushing her hair out of her eyes she turned to face them expectantly, eyebrows raised in question.

"Er, yeah. Yes we are. You don't happen to know where he is by any chance, do you?" Dean replied, flashing her a smile.

"Well that depends on who's asking," the girl stated warily, opening her badge-decorated bag to drop her keys inside. "Nathan's a friend...sort of."

Sam raised his eyebrows at this unusual declaration. "I'm Sam, this is Dean. We understand that Nathan does some work for Professor Brokowitz? We're writers and we're compiling a book on local collections of important historical artefacts and thought he might be a good person to talk to about Princeton's newest acquisition."

"Well I wouldn't know too much about that," Annie smiled. "Nathan doesn't talk about his job much, unless it's to complain about how the professor apparently only exists to make his life a living hell. If he's not in his room, I don't where he'll be; knowing Nathan he could literally be anywhere."

"Maybe we could..." Sam snapped his mouth shut at Annie's raised hand.

"If you were going to suggest waiting here for him, I wouldn't if I were you. Nathan keeps the strangest times of anyone I've ever known, no rhyme, no reason; you could be waiting for hours. Tell you what you could do though; his roommate usually knows where to find him. If you go across to the Technology and Engineering block," Annie gestured to her left where the building could distantly be seen through the smudged corridor window, "down in the basement, workshop 5, you can ask him yourself; he's probably your best bet. I'd phone him but the reception down there is pretty crap."

"Workshop 5?" Sam queried.

"Great, thanks," Dean smiled in response to Annie's answering nod.

They moved to one side of the corridor to let her through to the stairs.

"No problem. Be sure to write me into a footnote in your book!" she called out as she began the long trek out of the building.

"So you wanna head to the exhibition whilst I see if I can track this roommate down and get a lead on Nathan?" Sam asked, pulling out a flyer from his inside pocket which outlined the key exhibits of the collection, complete with map on how to get there, holding it out to Dean.

Dean wrinkled his nose at the proffered map.

"Stuffy, boring museum," Dean lifted up one palm, "exciting engineering workshop," he raised his other palm, "mmmm." Dean pantomimed weighing up the options, head tilted, face scrunched up in contemplation.

"Fine, I get the picture. Knock it off," Sam huffed, "I'll go check out the collection and make enquiries. Text me if you find out where Nathan is and I'll meet you there."

"Roger that. See you later. Oh, and be careful." Dean jabbed his finger at Sam, narrowing his eyes to emphasise his point. "No making grabby hands at the necklace and turning yourself into a prune."

Sam rolled his eyes, waving away Dean's concern. "Yeah, yeah. You too." Dean took off down the stairs, leaving Sam to fathom how to get to the college exhibition centre from there.

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Dean pulled open the heavy door to the Technology and Engineering block. He immediately turned towards the stairs, hearing the faint threads of 'High Voltage' drifting up from what he presumed was the basement.

"Huh," Dean mused to himself; a college kid with good taste in music, he knew he'd made the right decision to send Sam to the exhibition.

Humming quietly along to the track Dean descended the stairs, the music getting louder as he did so. Seeing the sign 'Workshop 5' nailed to a door on his right, he peered through the wired window to see if he could see anyone inside. He couldn't, the workstations and display boards blocking his view. Pushing the swing door open, Dean couldn't help but smile, his ears being assaulted by someone singing off-key but with no lack of enthusiasm. Dean crept across the room, peering around one of the display boards to see a guy bent over a circuit board, fiddling with the wires, bopping in his seat, foot tapping under the table. Taking a quick scan of the room Dean confirmed that apart from him, he was the only other person in the workshop so he guessed this was the roommate he was searching for. Dean watched as the roommate referred to one of the numerous sketches and blueprints strewn across his desk before reaching across the workbench for the soldering iron. The kid's moving to the music stopped briefly as he focused on his task, before loudly joining in again with the chorus once he'd replaced the iron back in its stand. He was so absorbed in his work and lost in the music Dean thought it was safe to say the kid had no idea he was there. Dean smirked to himself; he couldn't explain it but this student, who listened to classic rock and enjoyed making things, he had a good feeling about him.

Stepping out from behind the display board, Dean cleared his throat loudly, barely holding in a chuckle as the boy jumped out his skin, whirling in his seat, eyes wide and mouth still half open from singing. Dean faltered, something about the boy's face ringing fairly loud warning bells in the back of his brain; he looked familiar, but Dean couldn't quite place him. Shaking his head, telling himself he'd probably just crossed paths with him in a diner or some such place many moons ago, Dean stepped forward as he saw the flush creeping up the kid's face. Stammering out an apology the boy reached out and turned down the volume on his old-style stereo.

Den raised his hands with a smile, palms outwards in supplication. "Hey, never apologise for liking good music."

Ben breathed out a soft laugh as he ducked his head, embarrassed at being caught singing like he was. He thought he should probably ask what the strange guy was doing down there but instead he found himself asking, "You like AC/DC?"

"Course I do; I have ears don't I?" Dean winked, as he pulled his hands from his pockets. He leant across the table to pick up the CD case, flipping it over to inspect the reverse. "You heard their new album?"

"Yeah!" Ben nodded enthusiastically. "I was hoping it was gonna be as a good as their original stuff; so not disappointed!"

Dean settled himself into the seat on the opposite side of the workbench, crossing his legs at his ankles under the table, leaning forward on his elbows on the heavily marked wood, eyes sparkling with enthusiasm. "Track 3? .genius!"

Ben followed the stranger's every move, intrigued by him, and at the same time excited by the prospect of actually being able to talk to someone about his favourite music; arguments with Nathan about the virtues of rock absolutely did not count.

"I know! I had it on repeat for days; drove my roommate insane!" Ben laughed.

Dean chuckled in response, sympathising entirely. "I hear ya, man. My brother, Sam, threatened to pull the speakers out the car if I didn't at least change the track."

"And did you?" Ben queried, leaning forward, unconsciously mimicking Dean, inexplicably wanting to find out more about this man.

"Nah!" Dean joked, eyes twinkling. "He's gotta learn to respect the greats sooner or later. Been trying to educate him for years, no luck so far, but one of these days..."

"Maybe there's hope for Nathan too then!" Ben laughed, glancing at Dean as he pulled the toolbox towards him, rummaging around for some wire cutters.

Despite wanting to continue discussing his beloved music, Dean forced himself to get his mind back on the case and take the opening which was offered to him.

"Speaking of Nathan, you don't know where he is, do you?"

Ben looked up warily from the wire he'd been unravelling from the coil. "Nathan?"

"Yeah, we went up your apartment but he wasn't there. The girl next door said to ask you," Dean shrugged in response.

"What's he done now?" Ben sighed in exasperation, absent-mindedly stretching the wire out straight in his hands; it never ended well when people hunted Nathan out.

Dean's explanation about the museum collection put him at ease though; at least his friend wasn't in trouble, this time. Glancing at his watch he mentally ran through Nathan's schedule.

"He's got lectures til 1, and he usually heads straight to the exhibition after that."

"Awesome, thanks," Dean replied, filing away the information to text Sam once he'd left.

As Ben once again returned his attention to the circuit board in front of him, Dean followed his gaze, taking in the upside down drawings and plans. Nodding his head towards the circuit board in Ben's hands, Dean asked what he was making. Ben looked up, seeing Dean's open, interested expression. Hardly anyone ever asked him that and meant it, and if they did their eyes soon glazed over as he started explaining everything in the smallest detail, getting lost in his own enthusiasm. However he got the impression that this guy, whoever he was, was genuinely interested and really wanted to know. He shivered slightly as a familiar, warm, pleasant feeling washed over him at the thought, reminding him of home. Slightly bemused, Ben smiled as he slid his final plan for the design, complete with engineering and mechanical annotations, out from under some of the more specialised planning sheets, and held it out to Dean across the table.

Dean reached out to take it, turning it around so it was the right way up and studied the drawing. His eyes widened; it was impressive. The level of detail and ingenuity involved...this kid was good, really good. He scanned the accompanying notes, the tiny pencil marks hard to read, eyes flicking back to the diagram to compare the plans to the projected finished product. He smiled, impressed at the time and effort that had been put into this plan; he had no doubt the finished piece of work would be an amazing achievement. Dean felt a pang, tugging in his gut, at the chances he never had, to pursue something like this for himself, but he had long ago accepted, and happily so, that that would never be his life, glad to be hunting with Sam, happy and secure in the life he led. He was glad that the kid across from him was chasing his dream and doing what he loved though, sure he'd be a great success. Dean lowered the paper, just about to voice his admiration as he returned the drawing, when his gaze caught on the small, slightly smudged signature resting innocently in the corner of the page.

_Ben Braeden_

* * *

Chapter 4 of 11 coming soon! Reviews appreciated :)


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

* * *

_Dean lowered the paper, just about to voice his admiration as he returned the drawing, when his gaze caught on the small, slightly smudged signature resting innocently in the corner of the page._

_Ben Braeden_

* * *

Dean's world tilted in front of him, twisting sideways, his every thought misfiring; it couldn't be...

"Ben?" Dean breathed, slowly looking up from the design sheet to study the kid in front of him, eyes wide, disbelieving.

"Yeah?" Ben replied distractedly, not realising the significance of the question, raising his head to meet Dean's gaze.

Dean felt like the air had been punched out of his lungs as Ben's questioning, brown eyes met his. The bells were now a full-on crescendo, clanging in his brain. Dean couldn't think, the ground feeling like it had been pulled violently from underneath him. This college kid, he...he couldn't be... But he was, Dean could see it now; his expressions, his mannerisms, his everything, how had he not seen it before?! Sure, Ben was the last person he'd expected to see, and he'd buried the painful memories of that year so deep he couldn't even remember the last time he consciously thought about the Bradens to save himself the hurt, but still… How could he not have recognised the boy in front of him?! That was _Ben_ sitting across from him, taller, older, but definitely his Ben, looking at him expectantly. Ben's work which he'd just studied flashed in his mind and Dean felt his heart swell with pride at Ben's abilities. But Dean firmly squashed the feeling down; Ben was nothing to do with him anymore, nothing! Dean had no right to be proud of him after what he'd done to their little family. He shook his head; this wasn't supposed to happen. He didn't know what to do; he couldn't think, buried emotions and bittersweet images flooding his brain. He had to get out of there.

Leaving the paper on the bench, Dean pushed his chair back with enough force it almost toppled over, the legs scraping loudly in the now-quiet workshop. Ben frowned in confusion at Dean's sudden, odd behaviour, rising from his seat too, causing Dean to hurriedly back away towards the exit, crashing into the corner of the adjacent table as he did so.

"Dude, you ok?" he asked worriedly, concern etched across his face. "What's wrong?"

"I...I'm fine," Dean tried for a smile, but it came out as more of a grimace. "Sorry, I just remembered... I've gotta...My brother's waiting for me, he'll...Thanks for your help."

By the time Dean had finished his garbled non-explanation, he bumped into the door, handle digging into his lower back. Reaching behind him he pushed the door open, stealing one last look at his surrogate son, soaking up the sight of him all grown up, before fleeing along the corridor, up the stairs and out into the courtyard. He didn't stop running until he reached the Impala, parked at the edge of campus in an almost empty parking lot. He sank to the floor, sitting in the dirt out of sight, resting against the metal which had been warmed by the sun. Dragging his hands over his face, he tilted his head back, looking skywards, stunned at what had just happened.

He started as his phoned buzzed in his pocket. Grateful for the distraction from his swirling thoughts, he dug into his jacket, retrieving his phone to read the message from Sam asking where he was. Hands shaking slightly, Dean tapped out a one-word reply, before dropping the phone into his lap, twisting his fingers together, trying to cram his emotions back down deep where they belonged.

* * *

Sam frowned as he opened Dean's message, reading the simple 'impala'. Pushing himself away from where he leant against the outside wall of the university's exhibition building Sam strode purposefully down the sidewalk, stopping only to look before crossing the relatively busy road, wondering why Dean was back at the car of all places. He hoped Dean hadn't needed to raid the trunk for some unknown reason.

Ten minutes later, Sam reached the parking lot but he couldn't see his brother anywhere. He spun on the spot, looking around for any sign of him, before turning back to the Impala when he heard the sound of feet scuffing in the dirt. Sam rounded the side of the car, shielding his eyes from the glare of the sun off the sleek black paint, to see Dean resting against the back right wheel, looking not unlike a little boy lost.

"Dean?"

A jolt of worry shot through Sam, seeing his brother slumped on the ground like that. He quickly scanned his body, breathing a sigh of relief at finding no obvious injuries. Sam lowered himself carefully to the ground next to Dean, bumping his shoulder gently into his brother's.

"What's up, man?"

Expecting a sarcastic retort about wanting to share _feelings _Sam was surprised when Dean dropped his head forward with a heavy sigh, chin nearly resting on his chest, dragging his hands through is hair. Sam clenched his fists in his lap and forced himself to wait, giving Dean the time he needed to sort through whatever he was dealing with. Lifting his head, Dean gazed out across the concrete, steeling himself to fill Sam in on recent events; it wasn't going to be a fun conversation Dean thought, resigned to having it anyway.

"Ben," Dean began.

Sam snapped his head round sharply to look at Dean, studying his brother's profile, trying to determine why Dean was mentioning a name that hadn't been spoken by either of them since that fateful day outside the hospital, many years ago.

"What? Dean..."

"Nathan's roommate...he's studying technology and engineering here, he showed me some of his stuff; it's really good," Dean chuckled without humour, apparently not hearing Sam's interruption. "Nathan's roommate is Ben."

Sam let out a choked breath, somewhat blindsided by this revelation.

"Are you sure? I mean..."

Sam suddenly found himself confronted with a pair of intense, angry green eyes, as Dean twisted his whole body to face him.

"Of course I'm sure, Sam!" Dean snapped angrily, pushing himself up from the gravel to his feet. "I'm 100% totally and utterly certain. Now, get off your ass and get in the car. We're leaving. I'm not gonna screw up his life a second time."

"Woah, hang on a second! Dean!" Sam exclaimed scrambling to his feet, grabbing his brother's wrist as he pulled out his car keys. "We're not going anywhere. Now, talk to me. What happened? Did...did Ben recognise you?"

Dean's angry expression darkened.

"Of course he didn't recognise me Sam!" Dean spat, wrenching his arm from Sam's hold. "Cas wiped his memory, just like I asked him to. There's nothing there for him to ever remember." Dean paused, stubbornly ignoring the stab of regret that thought caused, before crowding into Sam's space, desperate to avoid the 'talk' he knew was coming. "And didn't I tell you I'd break your nose if you ever mentioned him to me again? Because I meant it!"

Looking at Dean's tortured expression, Sam could well believe it; this was Dean holding on by a knife edge.

"I'll take the risk," Sam replied calmly holding Dean's intimidating stare, swallowing slowly as he waited for Dean's, probably volatile, reaction. He wasn't disappointed.

Moving with the speed and intent only a trained hunter could achieve Dean suddenly shoved Sam backwards, who winced as he collided with the side of the Impala. But Sam could feel the soft tremor in his brother's palm against his chest as he held him there.

"We are _not_ discussing this Sam," Dean growled fiercely, fists curling into his brother's jacket, giving him a sharp shake to emphasise his point.

Sam bristled at the treatment, fighting to rein in his own temper, knowing Dean was only doing this to keep him at arm's length. But his frustration at Dean wiping Ben and Lisa's memories and his reasons for doing so had been simmering inside him ever since it had happened and it finally bubbled over; he had to make Dean see sense, he just had to.

Sagging slightly in Dean's grip Sam waited until his brother loosened his hold, assuming Sam had let the matter drop. When he did Sam sprung into action; hooking his arms in front of him then throwing them out sideways, Sam broke Dean's grip on him, before clutching Dean's shoulders and using his body weight to spin them around, swapping places, Dean now trapped, back pressed up against the car.

"Dude, what the...?! Get off me!" Dean argued angrily, struggling desperately against Sam's hold, his own fists tangling in Sam's sleeves in an attempt to dislodge his brother; he did not need to talk about this, dammit!

Sam, let me go, he begged internally. But he knew it was no use; everyone that knew them, knew Sam was like a dog with a bone when he wanted to talk about something and today was going to be no different. It was pointless; fighting with Sam wasn't going to get him anywhere.

Sam hid his surprise as Dean stopped fighting him, bracing himself for a countermove, but none came. Sensing that Dean had given in, if only for a moment, Sam let the tension bleed out of his muscles. He didn't remove his hand though, instead simply letting it rest on Dean's chest, a supportive, reassuring weight. Sam thought Dean understood the gesture, his brother's hand resting idly, naturally, on his wrist in return.

"We have to talk about this Dean. Please?" Sam implored, shamelessly unleashing his 'puppy dog' look as Dean called it, knowing that that would have a better effect on his brother than any angry demands.

"Sam," Dean protested warningly; a warning which Sam chose to ignore.

"Just listen, ok? I need you to understand me on this. You don't have to say anything. Just tell me you'll listen?"

Dean stared at him through narrowed eyes; Sam could see the barriers being thrown up again.

"Dean?"

"Fine," Dean relented with a huff. "Anything to get you off my case."

"Good, ok," Sam breathed, "thank you."

Sam stepped back from his brother, giving him some space, not missing the defensive posture Dean adopted as he began to speak.

"I never agreed with you wiping Ben and Lisa's memories. I know you did it to keep them safe, but..."

Dean visibly bristled, hackles rising. Sam sighed internally; he should have known he wouldn't get two sentences into what he wanted to say before Dean was contradicting him.

"I did it so I wouldn't destroy their lives, anymore than I already had!" Dean countered forcefully. "Lisa could do so much better than me; she didn't need me dragging her down, holding her back, and...getting her hurt! And Ben, he needed someone he could look up to like a father, not some...some..." Dean gestured wildly, searching for an example to prove his point, "...someone like me!"

"Dean, that is exactly what I'm trying to tell you!" Sam practically shouted, running his hand through his hair in frustration, making him look rather wild. "You _are _someone Ben looked up to like a father, the proof is all around you, and he couldn't have had a better example! I don't have to have been there to know that. You practically raised me, so take it from me, you were the best"

"Sam, don't. After you fell, I was a mess. Seriously, coming apart at the seams," Dean's voice cracked with emotion, never able to dwell on that time in his life without feeling the residual pain and despair, "the only influence I had on the kid was a bad one. Especially once we started hunting again; I practically turned into Dad! All the blood, all the killing, I wasn't who Lisa or Ben needed around, you know that. I'm dangerous."

"Look around you Dean! Look at where we are, where Ben is!" Sam held his arms out, desperately trying to get through to his brother, his voice low and earnest. "Tell me that this has nothing to do with you. Can you? Whether he consciously remembers you or not, your fingerprints are still in his life Dean, your influence, and that's a good thing! It's an amazing thing! You didn't ruin anything; you gave Ben something he could work at, something he was interested in, and, if I know you at all, encouraged and supported him whenever and wherever you could, just like you did with me! So, I'd bet the Impala that the only reason Ben has got this far, studying engineering at Princeton for crying out loud, is because of you!"

Sam paused, trying to gauge Dean's reaction, seeing if any of what he was saying was getting through his thick skull. Dean was flushed, lips pressed into a hard line, eyebrows knitted. He was staring hard at a nearby tuft of grass peeking up round the edge of a concrete slab, seemingly lost in thought; Sam hoped he was considering what he'd just said. Sensing a break in Sam's speech, Dean looked up.

"So, I taught him some neat toolbox tricks he's somehow remembered, what's your point?"

"It's more than that and you know it!" Sam snapped, before trying to compose himself.

"And anyway, don't you think you're doing Ben a disservice here Sam?" Dean barrelled on. "Ben's the one that got himself here; that achievement is all his."

"You're right, Dean, it is his achievement. But where did he get his confidence to aim for it, to try things out for himself? Where did he get his desire to succeed and try again when things went wrong?..."

Dean couldn't help the small twitch at the corner of his mouth, the expression in his eyes warming as Sam's words dragged some deeply buried memories to the forefront of his mind. He recalled the hours, days, spent under the hood of his truck or Lisa's car with Ben, experimenting with the kits Ben had ordered online, explaining how to rewire a reversible circuit, encouraging and helping Ben when he was ready to throw the self-constructed remote control car he was working on in the trash, the pair of them teasing Lisa at the dinner table about her complete obliviousness about what they were discussing. Dean frowned; maybe, just maybe, there was a chance Sam was right about this. Startled by the revelation, Dean cleared his throat quietly, unconsciously rubbing the back of his neck, mulling over what Sam was saying.

"...Who do you think he got all that from, huh? Who supported him, guided him, encouraged him?" Sam implored.

"Lisa?" Dean suggested, meeting Sam's eye, his tone and expression lighter, showing Sam that he was only teasing. Sam could see that at least of some of what he'd tried to convey to Dean had gotten through. He knew he couldn't force Dean to change his outlook on the whole messy situation just like that but he was hopeful he'd at least planted the seeds for Dean to consider.

"Dude, I'm serious," Sam huffed.

"Yeah, yeah Sam, you've made your point," Dean smiled awkwardly, clearly desperate to get passed the moment.

"Have I? Are you sure?" Sam asked sceptically. "Because I could..."

"Ergh, save me! Yes I'm sure! Now, come on, I feel like I need to drink an entire keg of beer or shoot something twice my size; my manliness is in danger."

"Your 'manliness' is fine, _Deana_."

Sam dodged a not-so-playful hit from his brother.

"Shut it, Samantha!" Dean retorted as they began walking back towards the centre of campus.

Suddenly Dean stopped dead in his tracks, arm raised, stopping Sam's forward movement too. Sam quickly scanned their surroundings, searching for what might have put in brother on edge.

"Dean?"

"Did I hear you suggest gambling my baby?" Dean asked, deadly serious, his voice thick with an implied threat.

"No?" Sam replied, tone deliberately light, face a mask of innocence.

Dean snorted in derision. "You're a terrible liar."

"Am not!"

"Well, hopefully you'll improve between here and the exhibition; Ben told me that Nathan'll be there from 1 o' clock so we'd better get going if we want to catch him."

"So, we're staying?" Sam interjected hopefully; he'd guessed as much but he wanted to make sure he knew what Dean was thinking.

"Yes, Sam, keep up!" Dean rolled in eyes. "Come on."

"Ah, ah, ah. Not so fast," Sam pulled Dean back by the bottom of his jacket as he began to stride away.

"Dude!" Dean exclaimed, knocking Sam's hand away. "You have to stop doing that!"

"I'll go talk to Nathan; it's really only a one-man job anyway. You go and find Ben."

"What for?"

"Just talk to him, spend some time with him. I know you want to."

Dean did want to, so so much, he just wasn't sure if he could. He didn't know what he would say, how to be. How could he get through a conversation without letting on he knew almost everything there was to know about the kid with no believable explanation? A voice in the back of his head, which sounded a lot like Sam, told him he was fine interacting with him earlier on, more than fine in fact, right up until he high-tailed it out of there like a cowardly bitch at any rate, so to just suck it up and do it.

"Okay," Dean agreed.

"Just don't tell him who you are," Sam advised sagely.

"Dude, I'm not an idiot!"

"Sooo, you good? We good?"

"Yeah, yeah, it's all good. Now get lost, drama queen. I'll see you in a bit."

* * *

Chapter 5 of 11 coming soon! Reviews appreciated :)


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5

Dean paced agitatedly outside the Engineering block, the soft grass getting crushed under the repeated onslaught of his boots, trying to gather his thoughts before returning to the workshop, alternately hoping Ben was still there and then hoping he wasn't to save himself from having to do this. Sam would laugh himself silly and then kick his ass if he knew how much he was stalling, but he couldn't help it. This was something he'd never expected to have to deal with and he wasn't sure how to go about it; he didn't think his usual bravado would help him here.

He was startled from his musings by the bang of the block door. Dean turned to see Ben fishing through his bag, clearly looking for something and not having yet noticed him. Dean took the moment to appreciate just how grown up Ben was now. He wasn't as tall as him, but he wasn't far off; Dean knew Ben'd be towering over Lisa at any rate. His hair was much the same, dark with a slight curl, kept cut short, styled haphazardly. His clothes were casual college wear, jeans and old concert t-shirt which Dean was amused to note was a concert he'd actually dragged Sam halfway across the country to see. Ben's head nodded along to the music which Dean could faintly hear coming from his earphones. Retrieving his bottle of water, Ben took a sip before spotting Dean lingering not more than a few feet away.

Great, Dean thought internally. Way to look like a creepy freak. Ben didn't seem weirded out though, in fact his face broke into a sunny smile, before a soft frown creased on his brow as he tugged his earphones out.

"You alright, man? You ran out of there like you had the hounds of hell on your tail!"

Dean grimaced at the idiom, but shook his head self-deprecatingly, embarrassed now at his earlier reaction.

"Yeah, sorry about that. I just…remembered something I had to tell Sam."

Dean almost rolled his eyes at his still-fumbling conversation attempts. Luckily Ben seemed to have inherited his mom's skills in social interaction and he laughed.

"So you said," Ben responded, teasingly expression firmly in place.

"Yeah. Anyway, it's all sorted now," Dean smiled. "You all done for the day?"

"No, I was just gonna grab something to eat then get back to work. It's driving me crazy; I mean, I just can't get my head around why the damn plane won't fly properly. In theory everything should be fine, but I've planned the ass off this thing and it still won't work. I can't figure it out."

Dean frowned in sympathy, knowing the feeling well.

"I don't suppose…" Ben trailed off, glancing at the floor, scuffing his feet in gravel, making Dean wonder how he could ever have missed that this was his Ben; he looked every inch the boy who had wormed his way into his heart all those years ago.

Ben couldn't explain why he was thinking of asking for the man's help. He didn't even know his name, for goodness sake! But he couldn't ignore the connection he felt with the guy, like they'd met before, like he could trust him and that asking for his help and advice was a well-practised habit, one which felt comfortable and natural. And something told him that Dean knew his way around a workshop.

"You don't suppose what?" Dean prompted, having an inkling of where this was going, hoping he was right, but not wanting to push for fear of breaking the tentative friendship Ben seemed to associate with him.

"Would you…? Dude, you're the only person who's ever asked to see my stuff and the way you handled the tools and looked at the blueprints in there… You know engineering, right?"

Dean chuckled, remembering the way Ben's face had lit up when he was younger and Dean had just offered to show him how the truck radio worked; it was the expression which Ben turned towards him now. "I was a construction worker in my past life. A mechanic before that. So yeah, I know a few things."

Ben frowned in confusion. "I thought you were a writer?"

If anything, Dean's smile grew brighter. "Jack of all trades, man."

Dean's reply raised more questions than it answered, and Ben was sorely tempted to prod Dean for further information, curiously wanting to know as much about this man as he could. He couldn't resist another question.

"Did your brother work construction with you?"

Ben felt his stomach clench as he saw Dean's expression shutter, the light in his eyes faded instantly. Clearly Ben had reminded him of something he hadn't wanted to think about, and Ben cursed his curiosity. He quickly scrambled to make amends.

"Sorry, man. I didn't mean to pry. I won't ask any more questions." This caused Dean's mouth to twitch; from what he remembered Ben could never stop asking questions, always wanting to know more, just like his irrepressible younger brother. "Can you at least tell me your name?"

Dean couldn't help himself. "That's a question, dude."

Ben rolled his eyes, sensing he'd been forgiven for his tactless question, even if he didn't understand why the simple question was so painful.

"Hey, it's only fair. You know mine."

"That's true. Dean." He held out his hand, which Ben took and shook. "Dean…Winchester."

He hadn't planned on giving his real surname; it wasn't often he did, and when he did it was most often met with hatred, awe or fear. He knew what kind of reputation Sam and he had in the hunting community and further afield. It was refreshing to see the smooth acceptance in Ben's face, and it felt good to truly be himself, ironic given the circumstances.

"Nice to meet you, officially," Ben said politely but in a tone hinting at humour. Ben had half expected to recognise Dean's name, proving his theory that they'd met somewhere before, but it didn't sound familiar. He was tempted to ask if they had met but he thought it best to curb his questions for now, not wanting to cause Dean to clam up again, however briefly.

"You too, Ben," Dean replied, relishing calling Ben his name to his face properly for the first time in a long while. "So…how about we go look at your 'damn plane'?" Dean suggested, making his way to block door, pulling it open, expression open and eyebrows raised in expectation.

"You sure? I mean, you don't have…" Ben stuttered, his face showing his eagerness, despite his hesitant words.

"I'm sure," Dean interrupted, not being able to think of a single thing he'd rather be doing than helping Ben with a project, just like in those forgotten days. "Lead the way."

Ben's answering grin was blinding as he almost ran through the door and down to the workshop in his excitement.

* * *

Ben had thought it was the electronics which were the problem, the power output not matching that needed by the outer frame, but after green eyes and clever fingers had expertly scanned and assessed his work Dean had proclaimed his electronics to be 'rocket-worthy'. Thoroughly stumped, Ben had let Dean slide out the electronics and protection panel to make taking a look at the wooden skin easier.

Dean closed his left eye, sighting down the right side of the small, wooden toy plane, Ben's independent project piece. He squinted slightly as he turned the object in his careful grip, inspecting it from another angle, before placing it gently on the table, tipping it from side to side, testing the weight and alignment. Ben was leant forward over the workbench, ignoring the work he was doing with the extracted electronics, watching instead in avid fascination as Dean analysed his design; he marvelled at how focused Dean appeared to be, how concentrated, his calloused fingers smoothing appreciatively over the little aircraft.

This plane was his pride and joy; Ben was proud of his idea and loved working to make his imaginings a reality, despite the scoffing of some of his classmates of his interpretation of the brief, saying it was too simple and juvenile, childish. He liked the purity of it though, the simplicity. Or at least it was simple on the surface but unfathomably complicated to make a reality; he liked the challenge though. The project brief was to create a fusion of old and new, and he'd decided to combine the remote control technology of the modern toys which children played with with the traditional design of the old-fashioned wooden aeroplanes which children had played with decades previous.

Ben remembered he'd actually owned a solid, polished wooden toy aeroplane which Lisa had bought for him from a thrift shop when he spotted it in the window as they'd walked past the store and he'd begged her to let him spend his pocket money on it. He hadn't had enough, but Lisa had happily made up the difference, despite money being worryingly tight that month, basking in the simple joy on her five year old son's face. Ben remembered running around the backyard, his mom watching on fondly, plane firmly held in his grip, raised high over his head, making plane noises as he 'flew' it through the air. And now he was trying to make that a reality; the simple beauty of a flawlessly carved toy plane which could fly all on its own. It had been fiendishly difficult, getting the right materials, the right components; even simply finding the best wood to use, which had the right texture, balance and weight so that the electronics could generate the power it would need to make it airborne was a trial, but Ben preferred to think of it as a labour of love. His project wasn't big and it wasn't grand, but it meant something to him; a memory of his childhood and his mom. And strangely it didn't feel odd or violating to let Dean touch the plane and help him with something so meaningful and precious; in fact it felt right, like it was meant to be.

"Ah!"

Dean glanced up at Ben triumphantly as he looked on expectantly, eager to hear what Dean had found.

"It's the wing," Dean explained. "It just needs to be realigned."

Ben felt his heart drop. He'd carved the plane out of a solid block of wood and it had taken him days. There were no joins, nothing to detach and adjust; he'd have to start again, and he wasn't sure he'd ever be able to make such a fine-tuned correction without causing another imperfection. Seeing Ben's shoulders slump, Dean could guess what had him so despondent, his ability to read his emotions still fully intact and functioning.

"Here." Ben's thoughts were stalled by Dean's voice. He placed his craft knife into Dean's outstretched hand, biting his lip at the thought of anyone carving into his baby, no matter how trusted. Dean's reassuring smile convinced him though and his mouth twitched in response.

"You don't need to start over, you just need to angle it up a little. If you shave off a sliver here and then balance out the underside of the opposite wing it should work; it'll be more aerodynamic and the motor won't have to work so hard to keep it off the ground."

As he spoke Dean demonstrated with steady hands, sliding the delicate knife oh-so-carefully through the soft, raw, as yet untreated, wood, carving off a thin sliver. He refined the angle and then began work on the opposite wing, evening out the balance and drag. Unable to help himself, so intrigued by what Dean was doing, Ben left his stool and made his way around the bench, peering over Dean's shoulder to get a better look. Dean held the plane up higher so Ben could see and he began to explain exactly what he was doing and why. Ben was amazed, soaking up every word, every piece of advice Dean shared.

Dean handed the plane and knife over to Ben to let him finish the refinements, instructing and guiding him as he did so, before letting him try completely on his own. It was a familiar, comfortable interaction and Dean once again felt that surge of pride, watching Ben work on something he was proud of and that he had helped him with something he cared about. He blinked frantically to clear the stinging behind his eyes, and stubbornly ignored his spinning thoughts and powerful emotions he wasn't sure what do to with, distracting himself by comparing the ability of the electronics in relation to the improved model. Soon Ben had finished the plane, and after having been thoroughly inspected once again, Dean declared it to be 'awesome work' and ready to go.

Indicating to the circuit on the bench Dean shared his thoughts with Ben about further improving the efficiency of the toy. "You up the power capability of the circuit by maybe 4% and this beauty'll be running as sweet as my baby."

"Your baby?" Ben questioned, intrigued; any machine or vehicle which Dean bestowed such an affectionate nickname to must be mechanical and aesthetic perfection, he thought.

Dean grinned unashamedly, as he sat down pulling out the wire coil Ben had been using earlier and began stripping some for Ben to use when he made the alterations. Ben joined him and began working on Dean's recommendations. Ben quickly settled into an easy rhythm with Dean, passing wire and other more technical components back and forth for refinement or modification and then connecting them up; the companionship was comfortable and conversation easy as Dean waxed lyrical about the magnificence of his Impala.

They spent the next hour working on Ben's project, chatting enthusiastically about everything from how Ben was finding college life to how Dean wished Sam was a couple of inches shorter, he's the _little_ brother godammit! It wasn't long after Ben had asked him about what it was like to have a brother and Dean had started telling the story of putting Nair into Sam's shampoo and Ben could hardly breathe for laughing, that they finished work. Ben deftly reassembled the plane, turning it over in his hands reverently. At a nudge from Dean he placed the plane in the centre of the bench and programmed the minute controls, stepping back and mentally crossing his fingers as they both waited to see if their adjustments had worked.

Ben's mouth dropped, just as Dean's face broke into a wide grin, as he watched the plane fly smoothly and gracefully, circling the room, just like he'd dreamed. Dean punched him lightly in the shoulder at their success, letting out a loud whoop. Ben turned on the spot, following the plane's elegant flight around the workshop in awe. Ben couldn't believe such a small change could make such a huge difference, and he had to Dean to thank for it.

Dean's heart swelled at the wonder and pure delight on Ben's face, so happy to see Ben so pleased with the result of their work. A memory of a younger Ben jumping up and down in celebration when they had managed to fix the remote control car sprung to the front of his mind. Looking at Ben's fidgeting and wide smile right now Dean thought Ben was only seconds away from doing the same thing there and then, despite being many years older. Once the plane had landed safely, Dean was rewarded with a beaming Ben doing just that, complete with cheering and whooping; he basked in the moment, wanting to remember it always.

* * *

Chapter 6 coming soon! Reviews appreciated :)


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter 6

_"_Dude, you're freakin' yoda!" Ben exclaimed in awe at Dean's skills, as he lifted up the plane from its landing place and setting it back on the workbench.

"I think I'm more Hans Solo, don't you think?" Dean suggested as he struck a dashing pose, leaning suavely on the edge of the table, thumbs hooked in his belt, head cocked to one side. The dusting of extremely fine wood-chippings smudged in the line across his freckled cheek where he'd wiped his hand earlier only adding to the effect.

Ben threw a cloth at him, laughing as Dean caught it, inches from his face.

"Be grateful I didn't call you Chewbacca, man!"

"So long as you didn't say Jabba the Hut, I think I could forgive you," Dean rejoined, using the cloth to wipe his face of the stray sawdust. He felt on top of the world, enjoying the friendly teasing with Ben like he used to, only this time he was completely in the moment, heart and soul.

Suddenly, Ben's ringtone interrupted their joking around, echoing around the walls. Ben smiled apologetically at Dean before glancing at the screen, a sliver of worry running through him at the caller ID.

"It's my mom," Ben explained as he picked up the phone, walking a few paces to the other side of the room, to where the reception was best.

Dean heart stuttered at Ben's words, Lisa? The emotions were coming thick and fast today, Dean thought ruefully; as soon as he'd managed to get his head around one unexpected situation, another was thrown right into his path. This was as close to Lisa as he'd been for years and knowing that she was going to be on the other end of the phone was mind-boggling to him; this was the woman who'd basically saved him from himself after his reason for getting up in the morning had been torn irrevocably from his life. Dean shook his head to clear those dangerous feelings; today was a good day, a day for happy memories not sad ones.

Oblivious to Dean's spinning thoughts Ben glanced back at Dean; he couldn't help but smile, watching the older man's mouth twitch in response before turning away to tinker with the plane, giving Ben some semblance of privacy. Ben did the same, answering his phone.

"Hey Mom, everything ok?" Ben asked, slightly confused; his mom never usually rang in the middle of the day.

"Hi honey, I'm not harassing you I swear! I know we spoke a couple of days ago about the spa thing, but... " Lisa promised down the phone.

Ben laughed, "I don't believe you Mom; you're a regular stalker!"

There was a brief pause, before Ben heard his mom's soft chuckle echo across the phone link.

"Damn! Foiled my clever plans to kidnap you and bring you home!" Lisa joked.

"And I wondered who it was hiding in the bushes outside my apartment with binoculars...!" Ben quipped, playing along.

"I need a better disguise," Lisa sighed, her teasing smile clear in her voice.

"Oh, just so you know," Ben interjected, pausing their banter, "I'm down in the basement working on my project, so if we get cut off, it's not me hanging up on you."

"Duly noted," Lisa smiled at Ben's assurance, knowing her son would never deliberately hang up on her. "I just thought you might like to know that a certain package arrived here for you this morning."

"What?!" Ben exclaimed, excited. "The parts I ordered last month? They said they wouldn't be able to ship them until at least next week; it's arrived already? Did you..."

"Yes honey, I know. It's safe and sound in your room, ready and waiting for you, don't worry. No-one's going near it, especially not me."

Ben laughed at the idea of his mom even touching the equipment he'd sent for, knowing her terrible luck with anything remotely associated with technology or mechanics.

"Anyway, how's the college project going?" Lisa asked, always keen to hear about what her son loved so much, even if half the words out his mouth went straight over her head. However she couldn't help her motherly instincts kicking in too. "I know you love that workshop but please tell me you're not spending all your time down in that basement; you need to see the sunshine sometimes you know. Do I need to call Nathan and stage an intervention?"

Ben rolled his eyes, knowing she was just teasing.

"Mom, interventions are for when someone's in denial; I'm fully aware of my addiction..." Ben protested, pausing to reconsider what he'd said, "...and by addiction I mean perfectly healthy and justified enthusiasm."

"Whatever you say. Ok, I'll take Nathan off speed-dial, for now."

"Good, thank you. But mom, seriously, the project's going amazingly well. I wish you were here; I'd love for you to see it." Ben glanced back at Dean who blushed at being caught watching Ben talk on the phone, following his side of the conversation, straining to hear Lisa's distant voice as he kept catching snippets of her words from across the room.

"I've got the electronics all sorted, and Dean's helped me with the mechanics and design of the frame. He's a life-saver Mom! You know how I couldn't get it to fly straight or stay airborne, no matter what I changed with the electronics? Well, turns out it was the frame all along; the left wing was dipped a bit too far to the back. I checked the wings a million times over and didn't spot it, but Dean did; seriously the guy's a genius!"

Dean felt the heat spreading across his cheeks at Ben's glowing opinion of him, however unwarranted he felt it was. He shook his head in stunned embarrassment, waving away Ben's thumbs up sign and wide grin with a self-conscious smile of his own. Ben knew Dean could hear what he was saying and the praise and gratitude in his tone were as much for Dean's benefit as Lisa's.

As Ben started explaining the finer details of the afternoon's work Dean tuned out his words, contenting himself to simply listen to the sound and tone of his voice, the happy timbre soothing the scars left by what had happened with Lisa and Ben, which had lain hidden and ignored, festering, for so long. Watching Ben's enthusiastic gestures as he spoke about his work, which he didn't seem able or inclined to control, Dean was reminded vaguely of Sam; the way he got so caught up in what he was doing, and how his eyes lit up in excitement at some new piece of insight. He was suddenly transported back to his year with Lisa and Ben; he remembered with startling clarity that he'd noticed the similarities between some of Ben's and Sam's mannerisms then too. At the time it had near shredded his heart in two, thinking he was going crazy, seeing Sam in every little detail, everywhere he looked, but now he was more than glad to see it. He belatedly realised how Ben had never really known Sam, not that he would've remembered anyway, but Sam would have and he'd barely exchanged more than a couple of words with the kid. Thinking about it now Dean was sad for that as he knew they would get along brilliantly. To the soundtrack of Ben's conversation with his mom Dean returned to clearing up the sawdust on the workbench and started thinking of pretexts to get Ben and his brother in the same room; he guessed Sam wouldn't need much persuasion.

He was pulled from his planning by a man's shout echoing down the basement corridor. Glancing to Ben he saw that he'd heard the sound too.

"Janitor," Ben mouthed to Dean in explanation, before addressing Lisa. "Mom, I gotta go and sign for a delivery for the department; Jason mentioned we might have some things coming in today. I'll be right back. I'll pass you over to Dean for a sec, ok? Don't go anywhere."

With that he thrust the phone into Dean's hand and disappeared out the door before Dean had any time to process what had happened. Staring down at Ben's cell as if it was going to bite him, mouth agape, Dean's eyes darted around the room, unsure of what he should do; what did he even want to do? Closing his eyes and taking a deep, steadying breath, Dean clutched the handset tightly and slowly raised it to his ear, unable to do anything else.

His throat closed up as he heard Lisa's soft "Hello?" coming through the speaker. He tried swallowing around the lump in his throat, but that did nothing to ease the pressure. He could picture her confused expression as she held her own phone to her ear, soft dark hair tumbling down around her face, the way she would twist strands round her fingers when she was nervous or uncomfortable. He wondered if she was doing that now; the thought caused him choke out a soft breath.

"Hello? Dean, is it?" came Lisa's voice again.

Hearing her say his name sent another jolt of shock through him, never expecting that he would hear her say it ever again. It felt like he was listening to her from underwater; everything was weirdly distorted and muffled. He sat down heavily in the nearest chair, overwhelmed. Dean cleared his throat, steeling himself as he took the metaphorical plunge.

"Yeah, hi," he rasped.

"So, I hear you've been helping my son with his project?" she asked kindly.

Dean smiled instinctively; there was Lisa, always guiding him through the awkward social situations.

"Yeah, I guess. Not that he needed much help; he's got a lot of talent all on his own." Dean fidgeted in his seat, his free hand playing unconsciously with the hem of his undone over-shirt.

"Well, I think so," Lisa replied, the pride in her voice unmistakable. "But I'm known to be a little biased."

Dean laughed, "Mom's usually are. With good reason in this case though I think."

Dean paused. A million combinations of words flew through his head; things he wanted to say to the woman who had saved his life and in the end nearly paid the price with her own. Thank yous, apologies, explanations all chased themselves through his mind in rapid, dizzying succession. Before he could talk himself out of it, Dean screwed up his courage, determination lining his features; the flicker of fear in his eyes was barely visible, hidden in the green depths.

"This is going to sound really strange, but humour me, ok?"

"OK," Lisa sounded unsure, wondering where the conversation was headed.

"Just...Are you happy?"

"I don't..."

"I know it's a weird thing to ask, but please...Are...are you happy?"

"Yes," came Lisa's voice, calm and sure through the phone, no hesitation whatsoever. "Very much so. My son's healthy and happy doing what he loves, I've got my job keeping me busy, and my friends are great, when they're not driving me up the wall. So yes. I'm happy."

Lisa was bemused by the strange question but she answered honestly, sensing that this man was searching for something, needing to hear her say what she really felt. And surprisingly, the fact that he was a virtual stranger didn't seem to deter her from doing so. His voice was calming, familiar somehow, like from a dream she'd had many years ago which had never quite faded; she trusted him.

Dean's heart pounded in his chest as he listened to Lisa's answer; he could hear the simple joy and contentedness in her voice. She hadn't sounded like that for a long time, he mused, even long before she'd been possessed. Dean knew then he'd absolutely made the right decision, no matter how much it had hurt him to do so and Sam disagreed. She was happy. Ben was happy. That was what mattered.

"What about you Dean?" Lisa's voice interrupted his thoughts, pulling him out of his reverie like she had done so many times before.

"Me?"

"Yes. Are you happy?"

Dean paused, not expecting to have his question turned around back at him.

"Yes," he replied without thinking, the answer he always gave when asked that question; any other answer would result in further unwanted scrutiny. But now that he considered it, he realised he had answered honestly; he was struck with the sudden realisation that, yes, he was happy with how this whole thing had worked out. He missed them, sure, but seeing Ben again, hearing Lisa's voice, knowing they were both ok; he couldn't ask for anything more. The fact that he seemed to have actually left a positive imprint on Ben's life in particular seemed unfathomable to him, but he wasn't going to question the warmth and pride that realisation gave him, tucking the feelings away somewhere safe to examine and enjoy later.

Hundreds of miles away Lisa was struggling with feelings of her own which she didn't quite know how to deal with; she couldn't explain the feeling of joy that spread through her at Dean's words, wondering how the happiness of a stranger could have such a powerful affect on her.

Suddenly, Ben stumbled back into the workshop, carrying a large, obviously heavy, box. Sliding it carefully onto the nearest available surface Ben blew out a breath at the effort, dusting off his hands and working out the bunched muscles in his shoulder, before crossing the room to retrieve his phone.

"Ben's back now," Dean explained softly into the phone, not wanting to break the calm he felt. "I'll pass you over. It's been real nice talking to you Lisa. Take care of yourself."

"Yeah. Yeah, you too, Dean," she replied, before turning her attention back to her son.

* * *

Chapter 7 of 11 coming soon! Reviews appreciated :)


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter 7

"Excuse me? Are you Nathan Jenkins?"

Sam approached the student who was busy polishing the gold filigree frame of a painting depicting a battle of the Civil War. Turning at the question Nathan's eyes widened as he took in Sam's imposing stature, completely missing the friendly smile on his face.

"Who wants to know?" Nathan challenged, full of bravado, whilst unconsciously shifting his weight nervously from foot to foot, rag twisting in his grip.

Quickly explaining why he was there and how he knew where to find him, Sam's laughed inwardly at the relief clear on Nathan's face. What did this kid get up to that made him scared when people asked after him? Sam shook his head; he'd done the college thing, and maybe he didn't want to know. Throwing the cloth and the polish in his hand carelessly onto a nearby table, Nathan motioned Sam to follow him. Weaving through the display cases in the impressive oak-panelled room Nathan began explaining the history of the necklace. Sam was only half listening, knowing all that Nathan was saying and more, instead carefully scanning the room for any alarms, sensors or cameras; there were surprisingly few. Stopping when Nathan gestured to the all-important display cabinet where the necklace was hanging around a headless bust, Sam's eyebrows rose in surprise. Quickly turning full circle on the spot he swiftly realised that the cabinet was on the very edge, if not out of range, of every security camera in the room; this job was going to be ridiculously easy, and wasn't that a first? Sam thought with a smile. Dean would be disappointed he wouldn't even have to suit-up.

Not wanting to jinx it or leave anything to chance however, Sam inspected the cabinet itself and asked Nathan where and when the professor had acquired the piece and what measures he'd taken to keep it safe.

"Apart from the general alarm system of the main building which is only activated overnight, just the lock on the cabinet," Nathan replied, leaning carelessly against the piece of furniture in question, waving his hand in vague direction of the silver lock.

Sam expertly analysed the lock, assessing how strong it was, before concluding in the space of seconds that he could probably pick it in less than a minute; it was substantial, but not enough of a match for a Winchester. Glancing at Nathan, resting casually, arms folded, staring up at the high-arching ceiling, Sam decided to try and do this as legally as possible, and yes, he told Dean's voice which was laughing at him in the back of head, he was aware of the irony of that statement. No harm in making the job as easy as possible though.

"Hey, would it be possible for me to get a closer look at it?"

"Mmm? Oh..." Nathan glanced around, running a hand through his unruly hair. "Well, strictly speaking only the prof. can give permission for that, but..." Nathan narrowed his eyes at Sam, assessing him. "So long as promise you're not gonna drug me once I've unlocked the cabinet and steal the damn thing, I think I can do that."

Sam laughed. "Definitely no drugging. Can't make any promises about the stealing."

Nathan chuckled, clearly thinking Sam was joking. He clapped Sam on the chest.

"I like you man. You're cool."

"Err, thanks?" Sam replied, somewhat bemused by Ben's roommate.

Whilst Nathan returned to the front-desk of the exhibition centre to fetch the cabinet key, Sam peered through the glass at the necklace. It looked innocent enough, but these things usually did Sam thought. But how were they going to manage to steal it without Nathan getting into trouble? Watching the diamond sparkle in the mid-afternoon sunshine which streamed through the windows, Sam's attention was caught on the jagged edge where the jewel was embedded into the gold pendant. An idea flashed through Sam's mind. Huh, why hadn't they thought of that before? Not wanting to potentially leave a job unfinished and a man's life still in danger however, Sam un-shouldered his bag and pulled out his trusty laptop, hoping the centre had wifi, wanting to check to see if his hunch was correct.

By the time Nathan returned with the key, Sam had surfed around some seriously dark and twisted websites to find the information he was looking for, confirming his hopeful suspicions. Snapping the lid of his computer shut, Sam stood to meet Nathan.

"Hey, sorry man, something's come up I've gotta go and sort. You around here all afternoon?"

"Yeah, sure, til 5 o' clock unfortunately. My life totally sucks."

Sam smiled, "Yeah, I can see that. When I get back, would it still be ok for you to..." He gestured meaningfully to the cabinet.

"Sure, no problem," Nathan interrupted, quickly understanding what Sam was asking.

"Great, thanks. See you in a bit."

"Later."

Nathan gave Sam a half-hearted wave as he strode purposefully out of the room.

Having text Dean to keep him updated on the progress of their case of sorts, Sam quickly found the nearest pawn shop, scanning the shelves for a jewel the same colour and size as the cursed Sahara diamond. Twenty minutes and one disgruntled pawn-shop owner later, Sam was in possession of a fairly respectable copy of the diamond currently resting in the vengeful princess's golden jewellery. Instead of heading straight back to the college museum building though he detoured to the Impala, rifling through his duffle in the trunk to find the tube of superglue which he knew was stashed away for prank-type emergencies in one of the inner pockets.

"There you are!" he muttered to himself in victory as his fingers curled around said object, before also snagging and pocketing his pen-knife as an after-thought.

He returned to the exhibition centre, flagged down Nathan and was soon sitting hunched over the necklace which was resting on his knee in such a way that it was shielded from the view of people and cameras alike. Carefully unfolding his pen-knife he worked to pry the diamond from the golden pendant. It took him a while to work it loose but eventually the jewel tumbled into his lap. Worriedly glancing around to make sure he wasn't being watched Sam quickly squirted a generous amount of superglue into the now empty pendant and attached the non-cursed diamond, holding it tightly, waiting for the glue to set. He tried to twist the jewel free to see if it would hold; it did. Pocketing the cursed diamond, he pulled out his computer, innocent expression firmly in place, seemingly making observational notes on the historical artefact he was examining.

Nathan appeared a few minutes later, looking a little flustered. "Professor Brokowitz just called the office, he's coming in, so would you mind if I got that back in the cabinet?"

"Sure, not a problem," Sam agreed, carefully handing over the now curse-free necklace, shutting down his computer as Nathan replaced the jewellery onto the bust. "Thanks again for your help."

"Pfft, don't need to thank me dude. I have been let off early since the prof's gracing the department with his presence."

The sarcasm was thick Nathan's voice as he pulled out his phone to check his messages. Reading the latest one left by Ben, he glanced up at Sam.

"You got a brother named Dean?"

Sam frowned. "Yeah. Why?"

"Because my roommate said they're both going back to our place and apparently big bro wants you to meet him there."

Sam fingered the diamond resting in his pocket, wondering what he should do; he knew the incantation to disintegrate the thing but he couldn't do it with Nathan around.

"Sure, I can do that. Just...I need to go via my car. Why don't I drop by there now whilst you get your stuff and I'll meet you outside your building? That ok?"

Nathan nodded absently, already making his way to the front desk. "Sure thing man, just don't be too long alright. I got free time to awaiting!"

Sam dashed back to the Impala and pulled out the notes he'd copied from Bobby's journal and cross-referenced with John's. He quickly checked no-one was around before collecting what he needed. Mentally running through the Latin incantation, Sam retrieved the engraved stone chalice from the trunk which they used in most cases like this; when they'd found the cup Bobby had alluded to in his journal a few years back, destroying cursed objects had become a heck of a lot easier. Dropping the jewel into the cup, Sam referred back to the instructions, adding in a range of herbs and some more macabre items, before setting fire to the lot, reciting the Latin verse as they burned. The flames flashed purple before the small blaze flickered and died. Sam peered into the chalice, finding it empty; no more diamond, no more curse. Sam grinned; mission accomplished. Throwing his gear into the car, he hurried across the parking lot to meet Nathan.

* * *

Chapter 8 of 11 coming soon! Reviews appreciated :)


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter 8

Ben swore as he tried to retrieve his keys from his pocket without having to put down the pile of books he was carrying. Dean shifted beside him, adjusting his grip on the box Ben had had to sign for earlier. When Ben had asked him if he could help him get it back to the apartment, as Jason had requested to make sure no other department 'borrowed' the contents, Dean had readily agreed, keen to spend as much time with him as he could. He was halfway to regretting that decision now though as his muscles strained in keeping a hold on the package. Ben managed to get the key in the lock but the door kept sticking.

"Dammit!" he hissed in frustration, wriggling the key, making a mental note to oil the darn thing again. He'd had to do it three days ago; something wasn't right. Maybe he should...No, Nathan would kill him. Probably should just contact maintenance like an ordinary student would do. "Useless piece of shit!" Ben muttered, so close to losing his temper; why did it do this when he had his arms full of the heaviest books he'd ever seen?

Dean bit his tongue, hard, startled by his instinctive reaction to tell Ben off for using such language. Sure, he was fairly colourful in the language he used on day to day basis, but Lisa had been very strict on the fact that Ben wouldn't pick up those bad habits. So Dean had gotten very good at telling Ben to wash his mouth out if he swore when Lisa was around; he'd let it slide every once in a while when it was just the two of them though, much to Ben's delight. He thought it was strange he'd had such a knee-jerk reaction now though, and he was very glad he'd managed to stop himself from blurting out a reprimand to a college kid who he'd technically just met today. That would've been awkward. He winced at the near miss.

Finally Ben succeeded in getting the key to turn and let them in. They both dumped their heavy loads onto the floor just inside the door, heaving a sigh a relief as they pushed the box against the wall so no-one would bump into it and do themselves an injury. Straightening up from the task Dean took in the room, eyes glancing every which way, noticing all the tiny details, making sure he'd remember them so he could look back on today and remember every detail about the life Ben had created for himself. The grey couch, which looked like it once been blue, the stack of games and DVDs next to the small television which seemed to have too many wires coming out of it, the photographs of Lisa and people who he presumed were some of Ben's friends stuck on the walls amongst the music posters and pin ups. He wandered into the small kitchen area, laughing at the hazard sign Ben had taped to Nathan's cupboard, before his gaze caught on the pile of metal and wire resting innocently on the counter.

"Woah, what happened to the toaster?! Looks like my dad got a hold of it!" Dean exclaimed with a laugh, taking in the parts strewn across the kitchen surface.

"Why?" Ben asked curiously, asked he dropped his bag on the floor by their threadbare two-person sofa and threw his coat in the corner. "He an engineer too?"

Glancing back over his shoulder to see Ben coming over to join him in the kitchen, he shook his head.

"No, more of a mechanic. He worked in a local garage for a while, but something about operating a simple toaster always stumped him. Threw one across the room once, ended up in pieces just like that." Dean smiled at the memory, nodding towards the mini scrap pile.

"Well, mine was less 'violent frustration', more 'compulsive curiosity'," Ben explained.

"Bet you're popular with Nathan."

Ben smiled a devil-may-care-grin, his expression completely free of any remorse.

"He's deadman walking is what he is!"

The front door ricocheted off the wall, announcing Nathan's return more effectively than his threat. He was followed by Sam, who smiled at Dean, nodding in response to his questioning look, letting him know the job was done; no muss, no fuss. The Sahara diamond wouldn't be hurting anyone ever again. Normally Ben would have argued back with Nathan but he was too caught up in trying to read the silent conversation which was going on between Dean and the giant who he guessed was his brother, attempting to interpret the wealth of expressions which flitted across each of their faces almost too quickly to catch.

He was pulled from his attempt by Sam turning his attention to him, holding out his hand and confirming Ben's suspicions. "I'm Sam, Dean's brother. Nice to meet you." Sam smiled at Ben, dimples shining in his cheeks, glad to properly meet Ben under happy circumstances. He leant in secretively and whispered, "Anything Dean's told you about me is complete lies."

Ben laughed as Dean cuffed Sam around the back of the head and then dodged the answering hit. It kind of made him wish he'd had a brother to fool around and make trouble with growing up.

Dean reached out squeezed Sam's shoulder, silently thanking him for the push he'd needed to go back and spend time with Ben. The sentiment was returned as Sam clapped Dean on the back in response, the silent 'you're welcome' clear to Dean in the gesture. Nathan rifling loudly through the contents of their fridge interrupted anything further interaction, the sounds of bottles being clanged together reverberating through the apartment.

"Dude, there's nothing in this fridge but eggs and milk," Nathan complained to his roommate. "Seriously, give it up man. Face it, you're just gonna have to accept that you and scrambled eggs just aren't meant to be."

"What?" Dean's attention was back on Ben, not being able to get enough of learning more about Ben's life now. Scrambled eggs? The scrambled eggs he had made for the three of them during that year had been Ben's favourite; he would always ask for seconds and pester Dean most nights, trying to get him to promise he would make them the following morning for their breakfast, and Dean nearly always relented. Lisa had always laughed at him, saying he was a pushover. He wondered what Nathan had meant, 'not meant to be'. Didn't Ben like them anymore? He looked questioningly at Ben, who caught the look, shaking his head in response, waving away the scrutiny.

"Oh I've just got this thing, no matter what recipe I try I can't seem to make a decent plate of scrambled eggs; they always tastes like there's something...wrong or missing. I don't know..." Ben shrugged in explanation, feeling embarrassed that his weird preoccupation with the whole thing had come up when Dean and Sam were there.

Dean sat stunned as he contemplated the meaning behind Ben's words, the glowing feeling that had been simmering away all-day rekindled, a plan hatching in his mind. Sam moved to sit next to brother at the kitchen table, leaving the chair on the other side for Ben. Gathering up the pieces of the recently deceased toaster Ben placed them carefully on the kitchen table, sat down, and began sorting through them. He smiled as Dean did the same. Catching the look Sam felt proud of Dean, enjoying the easy atmosphere as his brother and Ben worked on fixing the toaster. Sam picked up a piece of wire, pretending to look like he knew what he was doing, but for once feeling like the novice in the room; in the company of Dean and Ben, he found it wasn't a particularly bad feeling. He was more than content to watch Ben and Dean interact, filing away all the information he could about this boy who meant so much to his brother, getting to know him as best he could in the short time he had in his company.

Everyone but Ben jumped as Annie marched in without so much as a knock; he was clearly used to her making herself at home in his apartment.

"Time to pay your debts, Ben!" she smiled as she bent down to search through the floor-level cupboard, pulling out the half-empty jar of coffee.

Dean watched with a half-hidden, knowing smile quirked on his face, as he saw Ben glance over to where Annie was crouched, gaze lingering for a brief moment, before turning away, his cheeks slightly flushed, lips pressed into a tight line. Dean caught Sam's gaze, nodding to the pair of them, raising his eyebrows in suggestion. Sam shrugged in response, before turning his attention to Ben and Annie's interactions.

Coffee jar clutched in her hands Annie stood and turned around to face Ben, whose face was now schooled into a passive but friendly expression. Neither of them spoke for a long moment, Annie's blue eyes unblinking, head titled to the left slightly.

"You...need some milk to go with that?" Ben offered, gesturing to the jar.

"I...what?" Annie was startled out of her brief daydream. "Oh, no thanks. Your wussy skimmed milk makes for really gross coffee, no offense."

"None taken," Ben smiled. "And you're totally right, it's disgusting, but Nathan insists. And if I let him get his water-masquerading-as-milk and that butter brand he likes so much, I get to have my music nights. I can play whatever I want as loud as I want three nights a week and he doesn't get to complain."

"Ah, the infamous music nights. I didn't know you'd sold your dairy rights to enjoy them. And you do realise that all Nathan does is complain?"

"I know, it's like he's genetically wired that way," Ben sighs.

Nathan's shout echoed from his room. "And you love me for it!"

Dean's mouth twitched in amusement, watching as Annie's eyes tracked each of Ben's movements, a wistful smile curving her lips, as he turned in his chair to yell something back to his roommate; the affection in their blue depths was clear to see. He wondered how long they'd been tip-toeing around each other.

"You gonna say something or shall I?" Sam whispered with a smirk.

Dean cleared his throat loudly, causing Annie to jump, nearly dropping the coffee jar, and Ben to refocus his attention back into the kitchen.

"Sorry, I'll just go; I didn't mean to interrupt you when you've got company," Annie apologised. "Hello again," she smiled at Sam and Dean, clearly not really properly noticing them until then.

"Hi," Sam smiled, as Dean watched Ben nervously picking at the edge of the table, avoiding looking at them whilst sneaking secretive glances at his friend. "You don't have to go on our account."

Annie shook her head, causing her curls to swirl into her face; she absently brushed them away. "No, I should be going. I've got an exam on Thursday, hence the coffee, and I should be studying anyway."

She quickly made her way to the door, before glancing back one last time to see Ben watching her. "Thanks for the coffee Ben; now you don't have to worry the repo man will come for in the middle of night."

"I can sleep peacefully at last!" Ben deadpanned.

Annie flashed a smile, which was a little shaky around the edges, before leaving, closing the door quietly behind her. Ben sighed, before turning to face Sam and Dean, ready to continue working on the toaster. He wasn't expecting to be confronted with them smirking in his direction.

"What?"

"You tell us Ben," Dean encouraged, teasing.

"I don't know what you mean," Ben replied unconvincingly, ducking his head as he picked up a spring from the table.

"I mean," Dean emphasised, "you and Annie. You like her, don't you?" his tone leaving no room for misunderstanding of his meaning.

Ben's head snapped up. "No!" he denied quickly.

At Ben's denial, Dean simply raised an eyebrow, leaning back in his chair, arms folded. Ben sighed, eyes flicking over to the doorway, where Annie had been moments before.

"Yes! Ok. Yes, she's smart and funny and kind and gorgeous, why wouldn't I like her? We've been friends since we both got lost trying to find our apartments when we moved in and spent 45 minutes climbing up and down those damned stairs together until we succeeded."

"Well then. Why don't you ask her out?"

Ben squirmed in his seat, feeling like he'd regressed five years and was an awkward kid again. "What if she's says no? Then she'll hate me."

Dean shook his head. "What are you? A twelve year old girl? She's not gonna say no," he said decisively.

Ben bit his lip, looking unsure. Long moments passed as he thought Dean's simple suggestion over, weighing his options. Making up his mind, he nodded decisively, "Ok, I will."

"Excellent." Dean paused, clearly waiting for something. When Ben made no indication of moving from his seat Dean nodded to the door. "Well, go on then," he encouraged. "Go and ask her."

"What? Now?!"

"No time like the present," Dean quipped, waggling his eyebrows.

"But..."

"Ben Braeden, get your ass next door. Don't make me drag you." Dean stood up, clearly more than willingly to follow through on his threat.

"OK, OK," Ben hesitated, glancing at Dean who gave him an encouraging nod, before disappearing out into the corridor.

Dean turned to Sam, beaming, arms out wide in victory.

Sam snorted, "Never knew you were such a matchmaker Dean."

Dean scowled in the face Sam's underwhelming reaction to his genius.

"Well, you're a lost cause so..." he shrugged as he returned to place at the table. "Anyway, how'd the whole diamond destroying thing go? I thought I told you not to get all grabby with it?"

Sam began to explain how he'd met Nathan, his thoughts about just destroying the diamond, not the necklace, and saving them a lot of potential trouble with the authorities. As he explained how he'd been able to perform the ritual to destroy the cursed jewel, Dean began looking around the apartment, trying to locate Ben's bag. Motioning to Sam to continue talking, communicating that he was still listening, he crossed the room and he quickly searched through it, pulling out a notebook. Tearing out the first blank page he came to, Dean then pulled out a pen and returned to his seat at the kitchen table, busying himself with jotting something down as Sam finished up his explanation. He couldn't help but smile as he processed what Sam's was saying and realised exactly what he'd done to eliminate the threat of the diamond. He turned to his brother in delight, whose expression darkened, suspicious about the worrying glee in Dean's eyes.

"OK, so let me get this straight," Dean stated smoothly. "I've spent the afternoon working on carpentry and electronics with Ben and you've been...dabbling in jewellery design? That is priceless!"

Dean threw his back in laughter, the creases around his eyes showing just how amusing he found this revelation to be. Sam resisted the urge to groan and bang his head off the kitchen table, knowing just how long Dean would tease him about it. He opened his mouth to offer a scathing retort but he was distracted by Ben sliding back into the room, softly closing the door behind him. Dean looked up expectantly, waiting to hear what had happened. Sam twisted in his seat, equally keen to know.

"She said yes," Ben whispered, eyes wide, staring at Dean as if unsure of what had just happened, stunned. Slowly breaking into a grin, Ben exclaimed much louder this time, "She said yes!"

"That's great, Ben!" Dean beamed, leaving his seat to go and clap Ben good-naturedly on the back in congratulation. "Knew she would!"

"When's the date?" Sam interjected, smile no smaller for not knowing Ben as well as his brother.

"Friday. I was thinking the Italian place down the road might be a good idea. You don't think it's too formal?" Ben turned to ask Dean, for some reason trusting his judgement in this. He felt so out of his depth. He'd been friends with Annie ever since the beginning of the semester and he really cared about her; he didn't want to screw that up.

"Nah," Dean waved away Ben's concern_. _"It can be as formal or relaxed as you want."

"But this isn't just some random chick. It's _Annie_," Ben emphasised. "It has to go great. I want to make sure she enjoys herself. Maybe let me take her out again." He smiled at the thought.

Dean could easily sense Ben's nerves, wanting to chase them away and help him one step closer to having a steady, happy relationship which he'd never really had a chance at.

"Italian restaurant, so...beer and a pizza? Maybe some ice cream? What's so scary about that?"

Ben smiled, relaxing slightly, "I guess you're right."

"I always am," Dean boasted. "But, hey, listen. It's gonna be fine. You'll do fine. Just dress up nice, say something complementary about how she looks and you're away." Ben blushed, thinking about how he thought Annie was beautiful whatever she wore, even that time she'd turned up at his door, tears running down her cheeks, mascara smudged across her face, after she'd found out her cat, who was still living at home with her parents, had died from old age. "She's your friend; you already know what she enjoys doing, what she finds interesting, and she knows exactly what she's letting herself in for with you so...It'll be great, trust me." Dean assured, with a smile.

Sam couldn't help his shocked expression at Dean's words; he was so proud of brother right then. He was almost ashamed to admit that he was surprised that Dean was giving real, proper relationship advice and reassuring Ben with his shrewd insights, and had not given in to his usual habit of making skeevy jokes whenever there was a girl involved.

"Right," Dean exclaimed, clapping his hands together all business like. "You want to come and see my baby?"

Ben face lit up; he'd been desperate to ask ever since Dean mentioned his Impala in the workshop but hadn't wanted to be pushy.

"Really?"

"Really really."

"Awesome!" Ben exclaimed, grabbing his jacket from where he'd slung it when they'd entered the apartment, ready to go. He frowned when he saw Sam and Dean collecting up all their gear.

"We've gotta be hitting the road soon, so once you've looked your fill we'd better be off," Dean explained with a sad smile.

"Oh," Ben breathed, eyes downcast, disappointed that his new friend had to leave so soon; he'd at least hoped he could stay for food.

Dean's stomach clenched at the feeling of being wanted and needed by Ben, seeing the disappointment in the kid's face. He felt himself tense up as he worked to keep his strangely fragile emotions under control. Sensing his brother's unease, Sam was by his side in an instant, standing close enough for their arms to brush; Dean leaned incrementally towards Sam, taking the support Sam silently offered.

"Sorry Ben. Deadlines to meet, you know how it is," Sam explained, giving Dean a moment to centre himself.

Ben groaned, sufficiently distracted. "Tell me about it! How many all-nighters did you have to pull when you were at school? They kill me!"

"I dunno," Sam pondered, "must have been about ten. Maybe. Wasn't too much of a hardship though; I was kinda used to it. We've always kept some unpredictable hours, my family, so my body clock's been screwed to hell for pretty much as long as I can remember. Tell you what though; coffee in the evening and through the night, some carbohydrate half way through the whole thing and then Gatorade in the morning; works wonders."

"Okay!" Dean interrupted, smile firmly back in place. "When you've finished advising Ben on the best way to become a quivering sugar and caffeine junkie, we have a car to admire. Come on Ben."

Dean hooked his arm over Ben's shoulders and steered him out the apartment.

They were halfway down the corridor when Dean stopped, hands patting down his pockets with a frown.

"I must've left my car keys in your apartment. Give me a sec," Dean explained, a 'what-can-you-do? expression lighting up his face.

"Here," Ben stated, throwing Dean his door keys.

Reaching up his right hand Dean caught them easily before hurriedly returning to Ben's apartment and letting himself in.

Within seconds Dean had locked up and rejoined them in the corridor, holding up the Impala keys triumphantly. He dropped Ben's keys into his upturned palm before setting off down the stairs. His shout of "Hurry up, slow pokes!" echoed up the stairwell, causing Ben and Sam to share a fondly exasperated look before following Dean down the stairs.

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Chapter 9 of 11 coming soon! Reviews appreciated :)


	9. Chapter 9

Chapter 9

"Woah!" Ben breathed, eyes wide as he took in the view of the Impala, parked alone in the campus parking lot. "She's a beauty!"

"See Sam," Dean beamed, nudging his brother. "Ben understands her charms."

Sam rolled his eyes good-naturedly; there was no doubt the car was incredibly special to him but Dean's devotion and love for the Impala was something else entirely. He knew the fact that Ben had fallen for her too would please Dean no end.

Despite listening to Dean's remarks to Sam Ben couldn't tear his eyes away from the Impala, the sleek black metal shining in the late afternoon sun. His fingers twitched, desperate to touch; he shot Dean a questioning look, silently asking for permission. Dean unfolded one of arms from across his chest and gestured for him to go ahead with a wide smile. Ben responded with a bright grin of his own, not believing his luck. Practically bouncing over to the hood he hovered his hand over the frame before he let his fingers skim gently over the warm metal. Not content to simply admire the exterior, Ben lifted the hood and whistled appreciatively as he scanned the engine, eyes wide in joy and wonder.

"Dean? What's this?" Ben indicated towards the back corner of the engine, his brow furrowed; he knew combustion engines well, but the unfamiliar assembly of this particular one left him unsure as to which parts did what. He knew he could no doubt work it out himself given the time, but something felt right about asking Dean to explain.

Dean threw a cocky grin to Sam before joining Ben by the hood. Dean knew the make-up of his car's engine inside out and back to front, and he launched into an explanation, his hands guiding Ben's as Ben got to grips with the mechanics for himself.

Sam watched transfixed, taking in Ben and Dean's interactions. Ben asking question after question, his gaze fascinated and attentive, making him look younger than his years; Dean smiling as he offered explanations in response in Ben's queries, gesturing to different bits of the engine as he did so, relaxed and clearly thoroughly enjoying sharing his love of the car; Ben laughing loudly at something Dean had said and actually slugging him in the arm in retaliation. Dean's 'ooof' of surprise made Sam grin unashamedly until his jaw ached. It was a beautiful sight to see and it warmed Sam's heart. Fumbling in his pocket he pulled out his phone and quickly snapped a photo, sure Dean would love a tangible memory of the moment. Calling their names Sam drew their attention to him, clicking as their two beaming faces turned in his direction, laughing as Dean's expression quickly became indignant as he realised what Sam had done. It soon slipped back into his contented expression however when Ben bent down to examine the underside of the vehicle. Sam watched incredulous as they both squirmed their way under the car, heedless of the hard concrete and dirt, their voices drifting on the breeze along with the metallic sounds which rung out as Dean rapped his knuckles against some piece of integral machinery. Seeing that they'd be occupied in their own little world of pistons and gasoline for a long time to come, Sam perched himself on the half-height brick wall at the edge of the parking lot and simply enjoyed the fact that his brother was so happy.

He was drawn from his comfortable musings when he realised Ben was climbing into the car on the driver's side, Dean on the other. As he'd done to him many times in the past, Sam smiled as Dean tossed Ben the keys over the roof, who caught them easily.

"Ben wants to take her for a spin!" Dean called across the parking lot. "You coming?"

Sam shook his head, wanting to give Dean as much time with Ben as he could, not wanting to be a third-wheel. He knew Dean wouldn't think of him like that, but still. Dean shrugged.

"Your loss, dude. See you in a few. We won't be long." Sam waved in response.

He could see through the windows that Dean was giving Ben some brief advice, or warnings about looking after his baby, he wasn't sure which. A startled laugh escaped him as suddenly music blared out across the empty space and Ben rolled down the window, giving Sam a thumbs up, which he returned. It wasn't long before Sam heard the familiar sound of the Impala's engine gunning, and he watched as Ben manoeuvred his way carefully out of the parking lot and onto the road.

* * *

Only fifteen minutes later they were back, Dean and Ben climbing smoothly out the car, identical grins on their faces.

"That was so awesome!" Ben gushed, remembering how well she'd handled. "Hey Dean, if you ever wanna trade her in, I'd be glad to take her off your hands."

Dean stopped with a shocked gasp. Trade her in?! "Blasphemy!" he mock-cried, pointing an accusatory finger at Ben.

Ben broke into a laugh, showing he wasn't being seriously; well, at least not entirely. Dean mirrored Ben's laugh, but as he trailed off Sam could sense the underlying sadness in Dean's expression, having recognised that the time had unfortunately arrived to say goodbye. Sam watched as Ben reached out his hand to Dean, thanking him for everything, gratitude and joy clear in his face. Sam could see Dean's smile was a little watery but he hid it well; Sam guessed Ben wouldn't even notice. Dean took Ben's proffered hand, shaking it warmly, before pulling him into a hug. Ben seemed momentarily startled but almost immediately returned the action, gripping the back of Dean's jacket tightly. The embrace didn't last long, with Dean breaking out of Ben's hold, clearing his throat self-consciously, before clapping him soundly on the shoulder, giving it a reassuring squeeze. Sam slowly made his way to join them, giving Dean time to say what needed to Ben in private before he said his own goodbyes.

* * *

Chapter 10 of 11 coming soon! Reviews appreciated :)


	10. Chapter 10

Chapter 10

He didn't want to leave but hanging around any longer wouldn't make driving off any easier. Dean heaved a breath, centring himself as he gripped the steering wheel firmly; he knew he would forever have the memory of Ben confidently occupying this seat and them cruising through Princeton together, as well as everything else he'd enjoyed today. He ducked his head to meet Ben's gaze out the window, holding up a hand in farewell before turning the key and driving slowly out the parking lot. Dean kept his eyes focused on Ben in the rear view mirror as long as could, watching him standing on the side of the road, seeing them off with a sunny smile and enthusiastic wave. When he'd finally disappeared from sight Dean slouched back into the leather seat, over-whelmed at everything that had happened in the last twelve hours.

"You ok?"

"Yeah. Yeah, I'm good. Thanks Sammy."

Dean smiled shakily. Tears shone unshed in his eyes, clinging to his eyelashes, but in spite of all that Sam could see the truth of his words shining in their depths when Dean looked over to him, despite his deep sadness at having to leave.

"You're welcome," Sam answered softly, knowing Dean wasn't just thanking him for asking if he was alright, but also for making sure the day with Ben happened at all.

Despite his insistent instincts to want to talk about what had happened, about Dean and Ben and Lisa, Sam forced himself to keep his thoughts to himself for now. He could see Dean needed time to process it all for himself, and for Dean that meant loud music and some time alone with his own thoughts. Sam knew that usually this habit was a bad thing, causing Dean to fret and stew about things until everything became so twisted and tangled up that Sam doubted Dean himself could even understand his own thoughts sometimes. Today however Sam was happy to let Dean do exactly that, hoping that he would realise for himself what Sam had been saying all along. Sam was so glad he'd gotten to spend some time with Ben and get to know him for himself, but he was overjoyed that Dean had had the time he did; seeing them together was one of the best things Sam thought he'd ever seen, and vowed to make sure that if ever the chance arose Dean would come back and do it all over again.

Not knowing what going on in his brother's head, Dean braced himself for the inevitable discussion he just knew was coming. After several minutes of silence Dean chanced a glance at Sam who was watching the world pass by his window, seemingly without a care in the world. Dean frowned. Huh. Maybe Sammy was breaking the habit of a lifetime and letting him do this his way. Dean's mouth twitched, appreciating the gesture. Reaching over he turned up the volume of his music, smiling at the fact that Ben had done exactly the same thing not half an hour ago with hands tapping out the beat on the steering wheel as he and Ben sang along together to the track at the tops of their voices. They were both equally terrible and yet equally enthusiastic, neither of them caring about the scowls and amused looks they'd garnered from passersby, in fact it only made them sing louder and with more abandon. Dean couldn't remember the last time he'd sung so loud and laughed so hard. It was a memory he'd treasure for the rest of his life. He'd made a lot of special memories today, he mused. As he drove he pulled each of them to the front of his mind in turn, examining them from every angle, remembering every detail, cherishing them, mentally handling them with the care he'd give to the most precious jewel.

The memories he had of Ben and Lisa from the year he'd spent living a normal life with them had always been tarnished by the soul-crushing absence of Sam and all the horrors which came after. He never really thought on those days; they were too raw, too painful even years later. He'd lost out on enjoying and remembering the happy memories he'd made with Lisa and Ben which were hidden amongst the heartbreak and pain. But now, Dean smiled, now he had today's memories, bright and new and pure.

The fact that Lisa and Ben were safe and happy and living lives they loved warmed his heart in ways in he couldn't explain, even to himself. And the awe-inspiring knowledge that his fingerprints were interwoven irrevocably into their lives, just like Sam had said, fingerprints which apparently no angel's touch could completely erase, made his heart swell and his breath catch.

They remembered him, somewhere deep down and unnoticed, but they remembered him and the good he had done. That was the most difficult part of this whole thing to fathom out, Dean mused; getting his head around the fact that he was a positive influence in their lives, Ben's especially, and that he'd helped shape a life and have that influence be for the better. The thought clashed so startlingly with everything he'd believed about himself in relation to them for so long that it was hard to make that shift in his head and in his heart, but he'd seen it with his own two eyes, heard it for himself, touched the reality of it, and it was incredible. The pain, the self-incrimination, the guilt, it all fell away; he hadn't realised he'd been carrying it around with him all these years but now that it was gone his soul felt fit to burst. Needing an outlet for the total joy he was feeling he turned up the music higher, foot pressing down harder on the accelerator, enjoying the purr of the engine, and began to sing his heart out.

Glancing in Sam's direction, he could see Sam's contented, dimpled smile twitching on his face, no doubt pleased with the way the day had turned out. Prodding him he tried to get his brother to join in, Sam laughing and shaking his head in protest, playfully batting his hands away. It didn't take long for Dean to wear him down though and soon they were both cruising along the interstate, cool evening breeze dancing at the windows, singing passionately with light hearts and happy faces.

* * *

Ben had lingered outside until the evening air had become chilly, gazing down the road which Dean and Sam had taken. His heart was heavy in his chest at having to say goodbye to someone who he'd felt he'd known for years after just a few short, but amazing, hours. Despite his sadness though, it had been an awesome day, one he'd remember for years to come. He couldn't wait for the morning when he could continue to work on his project, making the improvements Dean had helped him with and suggested.

With a sigh he retrieved his keys from his pocket, and let himself into his building before beginning the long trek up the stairs to his apartment. Entering his apartment, throwing the keys carelessly on the table, he spotted a note written in Nathan's untidy hand left on the smooth surface; apparently his roommate was out and wouldn't be back til late. Ben sunk into the nearest chair, exhausted, glad to have some peace and quiet since Nathan wasn't there. He sat there, unmoving, for long minutes, simply remembering the day, musing on every happy little detail.

After a while though he couldn't ignore his growling stomach any longer, he was a teenage boy after all, even if he couldn't use that excuse for much longer. Making his way to the fridge he considered his options given the fact that both he and Nathan had neglected food shopping for far too long. Before he could open the fridge however his gaze caught on the note attached to the door with the photograph magnet of him and his mom. The writing was unknown yet also strangely familiar; he removed the magnet, clutching the paper in his hand and he turned to read it. It was a recipe. Ben frowned, who...? He flipped the page over, breathing out a soft laugh as he read the message.

_Sorry to hear about your scrambled egg problem. Maybe this will help. It's an old family recipe. Enjoy. _

The message was signed _Dean _and underneath there was a scribbled address and a smiley face. Ben looked back at the ingredients and measurements Dean had scrawled out on the other side of the paper; eggs, butter, salt, black pepper, cream...Cream? Ben read it again just to make sure, definitely cream, not milk, and black pepper? He shrugged to himself; it was worth a try.

Humming under his breath Ben quickly gathered the ingredients and crockery he needed, surprised but grateful to find some in-date cream tucked away in the back of the fridge and a small, almost-full pot of black pepper stashed in the corner of his cupboard. Following Dean's instructions to the letter, Ben quickly whipped himself up a plateful of scrambled egg, impatient to try this new, untested version of the traditional recipe. Carrying the plate to the kitchen table, he placed it carefully in front him, strangely optimistic about the whole thing. When he'd been mixing the ingredients it felt somehow natural, like his hands knew what they were putting into the saucepan was right. Picking up his fork, he scooped up a generous amount, unceremoniously tasting his first mouthful. Ben's eyes widened in surprise, glancing down at his plate in shock; it was delicious! Quickly picking up another forkful, Ben groaned in pleasure as the taste burst across his tongue again. This was it! This was what scrambled eggs were supposed to taste like! They were perfect! Ben glanced over at Dean's note with a smile, a familiar warmth creeping up on him, surrounding him and wrapping him up safe and sound and loved.

"Thanks Dean," he whispered, before turning his attention back to his food, savouring every last delicious mouthful.

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Chapter 11 of 11 (Epilogue) coming soon! Reviews appreciated :)


	11. Chapter 11

Epilogue (three months later)

Dean sat in the driver's seat, waiting for Sam to get back from his supply run in the nowhere gas-station they'd pulled into. They were on their way to investigate a possible haunting two states over and Dean had taken the opportunity earlier that morning to check in at one of their many mail drop points. It was a long shot, and he'd tried not to get his hopes up, but being so close the address of the mail box he'd given Ben, he couldn't not check it. Fiercely stamping his hopes down so as to lessen his inevitable disappointment Dean had literally gasped in shock when he'd unlocked and opened the little door and found a small, white envelope resting innocently in the tiny space, Ben's unmistakeable writing clear on the front. He smiled at the memories of the day he'd spent with Ben, as he always did when those happy times came to mind.

Sam had been curious as to what was in the envelope and why Dean was suddenly so happy yet distracted. Dean had wanted to open the letter in private though; oh, he would tell Sam about it in the end but he didn't want a witness to his possibly embarrassing and emotional reaction, he had his reputation to think of after all.

Watching Sam through the glass windows, stalking up and down the aisles for Dean's many and varied requests, Dean reached into his pocket and pulled out his wallet into which he'd slid the envelope, keeping it hidden and protected. He turned it over in his hands, staring down at the address, his name written in Ben's hand, his thumb picking absently at the slightly blunted corner. Glancing once more to make sure Sam wouldn't be surprising him with a return any time soon, Dean took a deep breath and tore open the edge of the envelope, carefully sliding out its contents.

Dean was met by Ben's smiling face beaming up at him from the photograph in his hands. He was standing next to a shining display case, which, when Dean looked a little closer, housed his wooden aeroplane and framed plan which had started this whole thing. Ben was holding a certificate and plaque in both hands, grinning at the camera, body turned slightly towards the other figure on the right hand side picture. Annie was also looking at the camera, an enthusiastic double thumbs up showing her pride in her boyfriend. On Ben's other side stood Lisa, looking as stunning as always, having been mid-laugh when the picture was taken, her eyes creased in amusement, joy radiating from every inch of her. Dean could help but mirror the smiling faces in the picture, ignoring the tightness in his chest and throat.

Looking his fill at the photograph for several more minutes, Dean then turned his attention to the folded, accompanying note.

_Dear Dean, _

_Thanks for all you help on my project! I couldn't have done it without you so thank you so much. I came top of the class for 'innovation, ingenuity and creating a project with heart' and have been awarded a scholarship for an apprentice program. I can't believe it! Mom is so happy and proud; she burst into tears when I told her. She gave me a new, fully stocked toolbox and tickets to see the local gig of the AC/DC tour next month as a congratulations. If you're in the area, you could come too? It'd be great to hang out again. _

_Annie says hi and she told me to thank you for giving me a kick up the butt so I'd ask her out (her words, not mine); it's going really great, just like you said. Thanks, man._

_Hope you and Sam are ok, and if you're ever in Princeton again make sure you both stop by. Nathan promises to behave if you do, although I'll only believe it when I see it!_

_Thanks again, dude._

_Ben_

_PS. Your scrambled eggs recipe is perfect. Been making them every day, and even Nathan likes them, although he kinda has no choice since there's nothing else for his breakfasts as I still haven't gotten around to fixing a certain kitchen appliance…_

Dean chuckled at Ben's words. His heart was full of joy and pride as he reread the letter, before stealing another look at the photograph. He'd thought about giving Ben his cell number, or even his email address, but despite wanting the easier and more frequent contact these would have provided, he needed to keep a certain level of distance between them, not wanting Ben or Lisa to ever become collateral in the supernatural war he and Sam were fighting. Getting a letter like this almost made him think that maybe this was the best way anyway as now he had another tangible reminder he could carry with him and look at as many times as he wished. His gaze caught on the address and date in the top right corner of the page; surely a letter every now and then couldn't hurt, he mused with a smile, committing the address to memory, mentally drafting his reply, relaying his congratulations and letting Ben know how happy he was for him. Maybe he would deliver his first letter in person and squeeze a gig in at the same time…

Seeing Sam bagging up their supplies, Dean quickly but carefully slid the picture into the back of his wallet, smiling as it rested next to the picture of him, Mary, John and Sammy. He just had time to tuck the letter back into the envelope and pocket it before Sam returned, the familiar squeal of the passenger door signalling his presence. Accepting one of the bags from his brother Dean peered inside. Snagging a candy bar from the depths and then setting the bag aside, Dean started the Impala engine and headed back out onto the road, music playing quietly in the background.

"Hey, Sammy. You know I checked the mail dropbox earlier? Ben sent a letter…"

* * *

The End

* * *

AN: Thank you so so much to everyone who put this story on alert, favourited it or reviewed! I really appreciate it and I loved reading your thoughts and comments :) Hope you all enjoyed the story :)


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